


Falling for Love

by FelliSkelli



Series: Falling into LOVE [2]
Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale
Genre: Bad Puns, Broken Bones, Character Death, Depression, Determination, Dissociation, Dysfunctional Relationships, Ecto-Genitalia, Ecto-Tongue, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sex, F/M, Fellcest - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Frisk - Freeform, Gore, Hand Job, Knife Kink, M/M, Master/Slave, Near Death, OC, OC character - Freeform, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD, Protective Papyrus, Referenced Child Abuse, Sans Has a Bad Time, Sans Needs A Hug, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Seriously Get Sans A Hug Already, Sexual Tension, Sibling Incest, Slow Build, Smut, Suicidal Ideation, Trauma, UF!Pap/UF!Sans, UF!Sans/OC - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans, Unethical Experimentation, beatings, cuddles make things better, dub-con, frisk is a sweetie, referenced pedophilia, sub/dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-17 14:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8147326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelliSkelli/pseuds/FelliSkelli
Summary: Flicka climbs Mt. Ebott and leaps down into the Underground looking for her baby brother; she meets with many monsters and she has a run in with Toriel which completely changes her perspective on her morality. She eventually makes it out of the ruins and runs into Sans.





	1. Falling down

When she reached the edge she leaped willingly into the abyss.

\---

\--

-

Flicka had started up Mt. Ebott as a last resort; she’d looked everywhere else, this was the only other place he could have possibly gone, but that led to worrying consequences she kept pushed to the back of her mind, refusing to consciously consider…but her last words to him that night kept echoing in her mind.

_“If only you weren’t here!” She’d cried in a fit of frustration and exhaustion, her words shattering the uneasy tension that had existed between them for the last couple weeks. Frisk had not even cried, just stared at her, eyes wide and shocked. She had wanted to take the words back, hug him, ask him to forgive her, but instead she had turned away to finish cooking dinner on their portable stove, and when she had turned around again he was gone_

After climbing up to the top of Mt. Ebott she stood for a moment with her hands on her knees to catch her breath, the hike had been more tiring then she expected. After she could breathe regularly again and the stitch in her side had faded she began to examine her surroundings. It was a little chilly and she rubbed her hands over her arms before a bright color caught her eye. Up ahead she saw a hole in the ground, and at the edge she saw the bright red scarf she had knitted for Frisk for his birthday earlier this year.

Her heart twisted in her chest as she knelt down to pick up the scarf and held it to her chest and she felt a sob tighten her throat. After a moment she stood shakily to her feet and she walked slowly to the brink while wrapping the scarf about her throat.

She was not expecting to survive the fall.

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry…I’m sorry………Frisk, I…_

At some point during the way down she blacked out. When she woke up she was lying in a small patch of large and bright yellow buttercups, buttercups that were stiff and withering from neglect. She noticed in the back of her mind that her fall had shattered several of them. She wrinkled her nose at the acrid smell emanating from the dead flowers and quickly pushed herself upright to get her face away from them and then looked slowly around until she saw the cliff she had practically swanned dived off of, the top barely visible through the mists. She should have died.

Or at least shattered most of her bones in the fall.

Shattered like the flowers.

But if she survived…surely Frisk did as well. She felt a stirring of hope in her heart. She might find him after all. Oh, to see him again, to apologize…

She pushed herself to her feet and brushed her jeans off absently. She had dressed warmly when she left the homeless shelter this morning. She wore some comfortable and well-worn boot cut jeans which had once been black tucked into her black combat boots with scuffed toes. She wore a pale red tank-top under a black and red striped t-shirt, the horizontal stripes numerous and thin, and over all she wore a dark-red hoodie dress that only reached a little past the tops of her thighs, thin, but insulated and of a warm fabric. The bottom hem and the edges of her sleeves were trimmed with black lace and there was corset lacing on the back, and the top portion over her breasts was open from the base of her hood to the base of her breasts but held together by black laces. It was her favorite piece of clothing.

She had also packed everything she owned on her back (well, everything that she could manage to fit into her hiking backpack) before turning in her key. She knew this would mean she would lose her spot at the shelter, but she did not know how long it would take to find Frisk and did not want to have to worry about the curfew. All she cared about was finding her little brother.

So all she had to her name was a change of clothing for her and Frisk, lots of socks and underwear, some toiletries, pictures of their parents, his favorite book, and the few novels she could not live without. Conte de Monte Cristo. Shogun. Les Misérables. War and Peace. Her iPod and charger (not that she expected to be able to ever charge the thing, but she really loved her music). A couple canteens filled with water, some jewelry her mother had left her, a couple of Frisk’s toys. Some food. All her money.

She had thought about bring the stove, but it was too heavy. She had sold everything else to a pawn shop yesterday, not that she had much in the way of personal possessions, not after dropping out of high school and running away from her uncle’s -taking Frisk with her- when she turned 18.

He had run away a week ago and at first she had thought he had gone to one of his friends from his gardening club who he had slept over with once or twice before (his only friend in fact), but she heard nothing from Michael that night or the morning after, and after contacting Michael whom said he had not seen Frisk since that day before she had been in a flurry of activity. She began to look in earnest six days ago, starting by looking around town, checking the garden, the park, the library.

By then she was almost beside herself in hysterical grief and worry. She went to sell everything she could to the pawn shop, and then began to search the odder places that Frisk might have gone, finding no sign of him anywhere. But there was no other place he could possibly be but up Mt. Ebott. And there was only one reason to go up there.

If he died, she’d never be able to forgive herself…he was all she had. The human realm held nothing for her, nothing at all. She didn’t have any friends, her only other family was her uncle and the less she saw of _that_ …. _beast_ ….the better. She hated her work, she only took those jobs to pay the governmental fees (bribes) required to keep Frisk out of the schools (indoctrination grounds). She might miss her gymnastics, but she could exercise or dance just about anywhere.

 She adjusted the straps of her backpack and after giving the small round room another look she saw a tunnel, the only other way out of the room unless she suddenly grew wings. With a shrug and no other choice she started walking. The tunnel was short and led to a doorway. There was no actual door, just three shallow steps up, a stone pillar on either side, and topped by something like a seal. She looked at it for a few moments, curious, but her concern for Frisk caused her to hurry forward through the door after only a cursory study.

This led to a dark room, the only thing she could see was a green patch of grass that appeared to be spotlighted, but she could not see any source of light.

 She approached the patch of grass and knelt down to run her fingers through the oddly short grass. It seemed as neglected as the flowers in the previous room. Looking up she saw another doorway similar to the first. She stood up and walked forward once more, pausing at the door to look back at the patch of grass with furrowed eyebrows. It was very strange down here. She went through the door.

 She paused at the entrance of the room and looked in awe at the entrance she saw, two curving stairways that met at the top where she could see a door beneath a plague. Between the stairs was a pile of dead leaves. In front of the pile was a square made of the same leaves with a dark patch of ground in the center. She walked towards the base of the stairs and in the pile of dead leaves saw a floating golden star…confused she touched it and she felt the little bruises she had gained from the fall stop hurting, and seeing a huge room in a horrible place filled her with determination. She strode forward and climbed the stairs; she turned to look behind for just a moment and then walked through the doorway.

The next room was smaller than the previous, but well lit. But what it lit had her cross her arms over her chest and shiver for a moment. The floor was red; the brick walls were red, the bricks crumbling here and there. It was a little morbid, all the red. Also the way the light flickered made the damp walls look like they were bleeding and she gulped back a further wave of nausea.

She looked down when her eyes caught on something glinting in the corner of her eye. There were several metal plates that might be buttons on the right side of the room with a paler bit of floor making a path between them and the wall on the left side of the room was caved in near the bottom and was a pile of rubble. There was a switch on the wall near the buttons, but the door was open so she ignored the buttons and just went straight through.

The next room was a corridor stretching to the right, and a lighter patch of ground marked a path, which led over a stream that came from under the far wall and a wooden bridge over it, so she started walking. She saw another bridge as she was crossing the first, and some metal plates with slots in them lay directly in front of the second bridge. She was a little nervous about how quiet it was down here and was worried it might be a trap but just kept going.

 The next room curved north again, she saw something like a training dummy on the right side of the room and she approached it curiously. She was shocked when it attacked her. 

“Hey now, is this really necessary?” She asked in shock, holding her hands up pacifyingly. It simply stared blankly at her and left the fight.

 That was weird.

She scratched the back of her head with one hand, appraising the dummy which just continued to stare blankly. She shrugged and then notice had hair had fallen loose. She looked around and then down and saw her scrunchy had fallen out of her hair. She pulled her dark brown hair over her left shoulder and after loosely braiding her hair she fastened the scrunchy about a foot from the end of her hip length hair. She brushed her fingers through her jagged bangs and after giving the dummy a small salute she turned and walked through the nearby door.

She came to another corridor stretching to the right, and for a moment she wondered how far from Mt. Ebott she was. She was already a little worn out from walking, even though it had probably only been about fifteen minutes since she had woken up in the flowers.

There was a zig-zagging pattern of lighter floor in the corridor for no reason that she could see, and just above the beginning of the path was another floating little star. She reached for it, and seeing the task that lies ahead filled her with determination. And suddenly got no reason that she could tell she knew a spiked bridge was coming. She held her head in her hands, confused about why she would know that, and then she glanced down and saw the lighter path again.

On a whim she followed the path. The corridor narrowed into a hallway that turned down and then right again so she was still going in the same direction as before. There were dead vines on the walls periodically.

As she was reaching the first turn in the hallway a giant frog jumped out at her, obviously aggressive. It was leering at her, growling and glowing red. She was a little startled, especially when she realized that she could look at the Monster and knew it was a Toaddit. It was in her path, and being aggressive, but it had not attacked yet. And she seemed to sense some vanity in it, so she appealed to that.

“You have some very lovely eyes, Mr. Toaddit.” She told him solemnly. He seemed confused, or like he did not understand her, and suddenly she had to dodge to the side to avoid some sort of red rain that her instincts told her was dangerous. Once his attack abated she turned back to the toad with a smile. “I meant what I said about your eyes, Mr. Toaddit, they are your best feature!” She told him sweetly.

He still did not seem to understand and she had to leap to the side again to avoid the attack. The moment it was safe she pointed to him and to her own eyes. “Your eyes are so lovely!” And at last he seemed to understand, his stance relaxed and now he seemed reluctant. “We don’t need to fight, do we?” She asked sweetly. It blinked and went away. Just hopped away without any further fuss.

Very odd.

She stood there for a moment, shifting her weight from her left foot to her right and back, before she continued. The hallway was not very long, and soon turned up and then right again and led to a bridge over water, and the bridge was covered with metal plates that had spikes coming out of them. She stood indecisively on the wooden portion of the bridge, her hands on her hips. She had known that there was going to be a spiked bridge, but how could she?

Then she looked over her shoulder, and although she could not see the other corridor from her position she remembered the paler portion of floor. Maybe that was the path. That was really the only clue she had to work with. And it seemed to work, when she followed what she remembered of the path the spikes simply retracted with the slightest bit of pressure.

She was starting to feel confident and pleased with her ability to solve these traps on her own, but about halfway across she tripped on some warped wood and fell forward onto part that was not safe. She fell first to her knees and she screamed shrilly in agony as she felt the spikes rip right through her legs as she fell, going straight through her bones. She flailed her arms to try and stop her forward motion to no affect, her chest hit next and she whimpered when her lungs were punctured by several long metal spikes and her eyes rolled back as she tried vainly to keep consciousness. Her gasp came out as a wet gurgle when a spike went through her throat. Blood bubbled at her lips as she twitched and felt her mind slipping away and everything went black.

And her last thoughts were of Frisk as tears poured down her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've drawn some art for this chapter, http://felliskelli.tumblr.com/post/151181530191/pictures-ive-drawn-for-chapter-one-of-part-two-of


	2. Queen of the Ruins

_You must not give up_! A mature male voice commanded of her.

 _I won’t_! She vowed.

She gave a strangled gasp, her hands clutching her chest, and then froze; she was standing in front of the little floating star, above the lighter path on the floor, leading to the bridge. She was whole, unharmed. She patted her hands against her chest, remembering the last thing she had felt, the spikes sliding into her, that was the most painful thing she’d ever felt…She slowly sank to the floor, her hands clutching at her cheeks and she felt bile rise in the back of her throat. She gulped frantically to keep from throwing up but lost the fight and she leaned forward on her hands to avoid puking on herself, remembering about her hair just in time.

After her stomach was empty and all she had left was dry heaves she slowly sat back, feeling exhausted, but slowly realization crept in.

She was alive.

How was she alive? She had died, she remembered dying!

But she was not dead, she was here!

She began to hyperventilate and she slowly shifted her hands up from her chest, up her throat and clutched her cheeks as she struggled not to shriek. Her mind refused to believe what she had experienced was real, she must have hallucinated. But…she looked up and slowly pulled her hands from her face, not noticing the blood under her nails or feeling the sting of cuts on her cheeks. She lowered her hands to her lap and with a slow breath she looked up and saw the star. She reached up trembling fingers.

Seeing the task that lies ahead filled her with determination. She had to find Frisk. The cuts she had clawed into her face had healed, her gut stopped aching and her throat stopped burning; but as much as she had not noticed clawing herself hard enough to bleed, she did not notice the sudden absence of pain either. She got to her feet and jogged to the end of the room, and almost yelped when the Toaddit attacked her again. She shifted back, hadn’t this already happened?

What was going on?!

She gave the angry toad a tremulous smile, and complimented his eyes, and with a startled squeak she leapt to the side when it sent another red rain after her. After the attack finished she faced him again, a little more determined.

“You have lovely eyes, Mr. Toaddit!” She proclaimed with a bright smile. Once again he hesitated, confused but a little pleased. She held out her arms.

“We don’t need to fight!” It backed up a step, more confused. She continued to smile and then he just left. She leaned against the wall, her smile slipping slightly.

She closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them again she was calmer, and prepared to cross the bridge.

This time she did not trip, and reached the other side unscathed.

The hallway continued on the other side, a little higher on this side. There were random piles of dead leaves all over the place. She wondered for a moment where they had all come from, the vines certainly did not have leaves that big…she started walking again.

And this hallway led to yet another corridor bisected by another stream. She looked around for any potential traps but did not see any, so with a shrug she followed the path of lighter floor and made it across the room quickly.

This room opened up into a corridor that turned down and then right again, and there was a door leading to a small room in the northern wall. The floor between the door and the wall of the corridor all the way down to the point where it turned right again was filled with dead leaves. She walked towards the leaves when she saw another glowing star. The star was in the middle of the pile and she could hear the leaves crinkling under her feet. Crinkling through the leaves quietly filled her with determination.

She decided to the check the small room before continuing to follow the corridor. She saw at the room was really just a bit of a path between two other streams (but she had seen no sign of them in the corridor) and in the middle was a bowl of candy on a pillar surrounded by dead leaves. She stared at the bowl for a moment and took a piece, sticking it in her hoodie pocket. She turned to leave, staring at the water for a moment.

After walking through the corridor she came to yet another small room with a bridge covered in the plates that the spikes came through, and across the stream was six buttons, three of which were held down by spikes. And the bridge was safe to cross. She hesitated for a slight moment and then crossed. It took her only a moment to realize that all these puzzles must have been solved by someone coming through recently.

“Frisk?”

The next room was nearly identical save that it was four buttons on the other side and a switch on the wall right next to her. The switch had already been pushed and the bridge was safe to cross. She still felt a little nervous about the fact that the streams seemed to be coming and going to no purpose, they certainly were not maintaining the poor trees all these leaves must have come from. Or those flowers she had fallen on in the first place…

The next room was something different; it was simply an incredibly long corridor. It took her almost five minutes to walk across the length of the corridor, and she had worked up a sweat, and was getting a little worried; although she had been able to see that hallway that the corridor narrowed to the whole time, it had felt like she was not getting nearer until she was suddenly there.

“Hold on, dear one!” A sweet voice called out, but there was something about the pitch of her voice that sent shivers down Flicka’s spine. She did give an undignified squeak and a little jump when a large goat-woman appeared in the doorway, calling out to her. The woman was about a head taller than her, and she was twice as broad, but in a matronly manner. She had white fur with some disconcerting reddish patches, and small dainty horns on her head and fluffy ears, if not for her manic eyes (yellow, with red pupils and dark bags beneath, just, staring, not blinking at all), she would be quite charming. When Flicka looked closer her black and red robe was rather torn and unkempt, but the seal on the front looked familiar.

Before Flicka could respond the woman continued. “Hello, my child. I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins.” She spoke in formal tones, but so warmly and welcomingly. Flicka felt her shoulders relaxing from their previous tension, but she was still wary. “You, are so cute, like the last one...and it is so very unusual to see another one so soon…” Toriel spoke haltingly, her eyes twitching slightly. Flicka began to return the greeting with some similar platitude when the woman’s words penetrated. She was about to blurt out if Toriel had seen Frisk, but her eyes made her think again, so instead she simply smiled broadly at the woman and gave a sort of pseudo-curtsey.

“Yes, now, you must be very confused.” Toriel began, her smile getting wider. Flicka nodded, but could not help but notice that Toriel had some prominent fangs. “Well, I can help you leave this place. Just come to my house. It lies at the end of the Ruins. I will explain everything there.” Flicka nodded again, grateful to the woman’s offer to help, even if she was a bit offsetting.

“Now, my child, I will give you a cell phone.” Toriel said helpfully to which Flicka had to wonder how cell phones worked in what was ostensibly underground…were there cell towers? Magic? Must be magic. But Toriel was still talking and she noticed her eyes had been drifting to the side while she thought about how cell phones work, so she snapped them back to the goat-woman’s face.

“I will call you periodically to…” The woman paused and her eyes drifted to the side and Flicka felt more unease creep up her back. “…to check up on you.” The woman finished with a sweet, motherly smile. “Be safe, my child.” She finished before handing her a phone and walking away.

Flicka held the phone in her hand and stared at it blankly, wondering why if the woman wanted her to be safe, and why if she wanted her to come to her house…she was not escorting her, or guiding her…or…anything.

This was very odd.

Also being called a child was a little annoying; she was 18 now after all! She puffed out her cheeks indignantly for a moment, but then she thought of Frisk, of the woman having seen him…that woman…Flicka was suddenly very anxious to see this Toriel’s house.

The woman was a little off putting, and a little too friendly, nothing else down here was as straightforward as it should be, and so this kindly woman must be a trap too. She realized that something had occurred to her down here that nothing up in the human world had ever managed to do to her.

She had become a cynic. She stood in place, shocked. She had also told Frisk as she raised him to look for the best in people, to try and be friends with everyone, no matter how they appeared at first or acted, that anyone could be softened. She told him to live by loving others. And here was she, not living to those standards. She had immediately been suspicious of that woman and saw her as a threat on appearances alone. She felt terribly ashamed of herself. She could not allow herself to lose her optimism or her belief that everyone could be good. 

Not if she wanted to be able to look her baby brother in the face without shame.

She put the cellphone in her pocket, grateful to Toriel for opening her eyes to the darkness clouding her heart before it could insidiously take over. With a firm stride she continued forward, determined.

 


	3. Dusting the home

Out of breath, Flicka felt a little triumphant to have finally arrived. She had not expected the Ruins to be quite so large, and she felt exhausted, it had taken almost an hour to get to the end. She stood with her hands on her knees, and fought the sudden urge to sit down, even for a moment.

She had picked up some candy and spider baked goods (this place got weirder every step she took) on the way, as well as a cute toy knife; managed to spare a variety of monsters including some timid Whimsun which had acted tough (until Flicka had fainted an attack at it, then it fled all on its own); more Toaddits; a very creepy red ghost named Nabstablook who turned out to just be depressed, but the nicer she was to it the angrier it got and it left, saying someone else would kill her; some violent vegetables called Vegetoids of all things; a Loox, which approved of a tough attitude;  and some little Moldsmals which were happy when she wiggled with them.

On the way she managed to pick up a fair amount of gold (thus the baked goods, and with a slightly hysterical thought she wondered if there would be a way to exchange her money for gold if it came to that). But she did have to wonder why the monsters were paying her for not attacking them, it was a little sad when she thought about it too much. And she was beginning to consider if it would be possible to pay them to not fight too…

She shook the thought away and straightened back up, adjusting her backpack with a groan. Her back was killing her. She could not understand why she was so tired, she had not been taking much part in her Gymnastics Team lately, being busy as a Street Cleaner and Night Entertainer to be able to afford to keep Frisk out of school, but it still did not make sense that she was so exhausted after just a bit of walking.

Toriel had kept in touch periodically, asking her increasingly disturbing questions. She had begun innocently enough. She kept asking if Flicka was really coming. She asked if Flicka preferred snails or crabs. Cinnamon or butterscotch. Blood or dust. Whatever that last bit meant. But Flicka was getting very nervous. Especially when she began to see piles of pale dust scattered about. She did not know why, but looking at the dust sent a chill down her spine and she felt a little ill.

She had promised to herself to not allow this place to darken her heart, and she had succeeded in befriending every monster she had so far come across but…well, she knew her optimism was really naïve, and she was not stupid, or blind to the fact that sociopaths and psychopaths and serial killers could be classified as irredeemably evil, but that did not mean you could not befriend them, at least, on the short term. Until they had no more use for you. But it did give one time to get away if it came to that.

So despite her misgivings she had eventually concluded that Toriel might not have her best interests at heart, but Flicka was willing to play along for a time to see her end game. Walking through the Ruins had given her a long time to think, especially since all the puzzles had been solved before her. Was it Frisk? Or Toriel? She really had no way to know for sure. But she did make sure to touch a star every time she saw one, allowing determination to fill her heart and any incidental injury from her attempts to befriend to heal.

But she was here at last. There was an unhealthy looking tree that was bare of leaves, because all the leaves were on the ground around the roots, the same dead rust as all the others she had seen. She saw a few other piles of dust, and then at last what must be Toriel’s house, a stone façade with two windows and a door built into the back wall, with more leaves pilled under the wall. She took a deep breath as she gazed at the ominous house and she was filled with determination.

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and approached the house. When she began to pass the tree she almost ran into Toriel who was looking at something on her phone and walking towards her. Toriel looked up before they collided and gave the girl a gleeful grin which did not quite reach her eyes.

“Child! You’ve come at last, wonderful, wonderful! Come with me, I have a surprise for you!” The woman grabbed Flicka’s hand and all but dragged her into the house, she was very strong and Flicka fought the urge to pull free. Once inside the house Toriel released her arm and turned to face her with arms out spread, she stood in front of a stairway leading down, the floors wore wooden, the walls covered in pink paint, there were bookcases and drawers against the wall, and a vase of flowers. But the floor was cracked, the walls peeling, the flowers dead.

“Do you smell that?” Toriel giggled. “It is a crab pie! (Crab pie? Flicka fought to not wrinkle her nose in disgust and just smiled pleasantly although her stomach churned at the thought) I’ve made it just for you, does it not smell lovely? And I’ve even prepared you a room of your own! Follow me!” Toriel whirled and walked down a hall to the right, and as Flicka turned to follow she noticed that the hem of Toriel’s robe was covered with dust, and it made her thinking eerily of blood for some reason. But she followed none-the-less. The hallway was broken up by three doors and there was a table with another vase of dead flowers at the end of the hall, and a mirror on the left wall at the end after the third door.

But that was all Flicka had a chance to take in because Toriel stopped them at the first door and opened it with a flourish.

“See here, I’ve prepared this just for you, you must be exhausted, and you’ve worked so hard to get here! I will wake you when the pie is finished, so you just rest!” Toriel gushed, gesturing for Flicka to enter. When she hesitated, Toriel’s eye twitched, so Flicka quickly gave the woman a hug and scampered into the room. Toriel closed the door and after a moment Flicka felt her heart plummet when she heard something click. She was locked in.

Not good.

She sighed and raised a hand to rub her temples; she could feel a headache starting. This was not getting her anywhere. But it was true…she was exhausted. Nothing she could do while locked in. When she had pie with Toriel she would try and bring up Frisk and see where he was. She tried not to think too hard about why he was not here too.

She looked around the room, it had a purple wall, and rug on the floor, and blankets on the bed. Well, at least it was a welcome change from all the red. Not that she disliked red, it was her favorite color, but to be surrounded by it constantly was a bit unsettling. Purple was a bit more calming. Although she still thought the shade a bit too dark for a bedroom setting, but she was not going to tell Toriel this. Continuing to examine the room she saw a lamp, a toy chest, a dresser, and armoire, and a bed. Also a box. She approached it and saw it was filled with shoes. Dusty shoes.

She backed away gagging, her hands rising unconsciously to clutch her cheeks.

This was very not good.

She wrapped her arms about herself and stood in the middle of the room for several minutes, letting the horror wash over her, trembling slightly. And then taking a deep breath she let it out and went to the bed. It at least looked inviting. She took her backpack off and placed it carefully on the floor at the foot of the bed. She climbed under the blankets without bothering to take off her boots and went to sleep.

She woke up when she heard her door being unlocked but kept her eyes closed and her breathing steady. She assumed Toriel wanted to wake her for pie, so would allow the woman to awaken her like a child. Anything to keep up the façade the woman thrived on; she had not seemed very stable.

As she had suspected the woman came into the room and placed a large furry paw on her shoulder to shake her gently awake. “Come my child, the pie is done!” Toriel cooed sweetly. Flicka opened her eyes, a false smile easily curving her lips up as she looked up at the woman hovering above her.

“That sounds wonderful, Toriel, I am hungry!” She said with a grin as she sat up and gave an exaggerated stretch. Toriel stepped aside and Flicka slid out of bed, hoping the woman would not be upset about her wearing boots to bed.

Toriel did not seem to notice, but bustled her out of the room and to the other end of the house, it was a tidy living room with a comfortable looking recliner set before a roaring fire (which somehow did not seem to be putting off much heat and it was eerie looking), a large bookcase next to the fireplace, and dining table at the far end. The pie was set on the table, a slice already on a plate set before a chair pulled away from the table. Flicka took the hint and took the seat. She was not overly fond of fish, but she had gone hungry too many times before to turn her nose up at such fare. And thankfully she knew Frisk could stomach just about anything, so she was not worried about what his reaction may have been.

She began to eat the pie, giving every appearance of enjoyment, but…it was disgusting. Not just the crab but….it was acrid. And…very dry. She remembered the content of some of Toriel’s earlier calls and a bead of cold sweat trailed down her spine, but she choked down the entire portion. It lay like lead in her belly and she felt a revolt beginning in her stomach but she refused to throw up this time.

By this point Toriel had joined her at the table.

“You must have been hungry indeed!” Toriel exclaimed.

“Ah, yes. It was delicious, Toriel.” Flicka responded with a grin that was slightly forced. Toriel did not seem to notice; maybe she was not that good at reading micro-expressions. Well, Flicka was very good at reading people, and Toriel’s face may not be a human face, but Flicka thought she might be able to read her just fine. “Toriel, when you found me, and offered me this sanctuary…you said something odd.” Flicka started innocently, licking her fork as if with great enjoyment.

“D-did I?” Toriel asked, stuttering slightly.

“Hmm.” Flicka nodded, not looking at the goat-woman directly but off to the side, making it seem like she was examining the room. She then turned to smile brightly at Toriel.

“You said…I was like the ‘last one’?” She asked with her sweetest smile. Toriel looked blankly at her for a moment, and Flicka thought she might be panicking slightly but then she relaxed and smiled, her mouth gaping slightly and Flicka almost flinched.

“Oh! Yes! Well, from time to time children fall down here…just as you have dear one, my dearest one. And I care for them as if they were my own, as I will care for you!” Toriel explained, her eyes wider than before, her red irises almost glowing. Flicka continued to smile and placed the fork down neatly next to her cleaned plate and placed her hands neatly on her lap, all the while her mind was whirling.

“And, the other children? Where are they, mama Toriel?” She asked softly, without even a hint of censure, laying on the innocent curiosity as thickly as she could. As she had hoped, the ‘mama’ bit had Toriel flushing with maternal pleasure and she leapt to her feet to take Flicka’s plate and fork into the kitchen.

“Well, dear one, the other children, they were not as good and sweet and well behaved as you. They tried to leave. They had to be punished.” Toriel’s sweet tone never wavered but Flicka felt dread pool in her gut and realization of the other childrens’ fates made her feel very cold and she noticed her hands her clammy and she had sweat beading her brow. She took a quick shallow breath and then responded as cheerily as she could, turning to look at the woman in the kitchen.

“Oh, mama, how could anyone ever want to leave you?”

“Oh, you are the _sweetest_ little girl!” Toriel gushed, and Ficka just kept that smile frozen on her face. “And those others just wanted to go home!” She continued, but her voice twisted with disgust. And Flicka’s horror was being turned into anger. This woman, taking in the poor confused children that fell, poisoning them with her concoctions, terrifying them, and…trapping them here…

“But, what sort of punishment did those naughty children receive for refusing your love?” Flicka asked; channeling up the morbid curiosity of an adolescent child who picked the wings of flies to see what would happen. She even kicked her feet immaturely and slouched in her chair.

“Oh, I had to make them regret hurting me, lying to me, I would try and convince them to stay in any way I could, because I so love all my poor innocent children…” Toriel began in a musing tone. “The first one, I tied up to make him stay. I made him go without dinner. Or breakfast. Or lunch. Maybe a bit too long, I forgot how often humans need to eat. The second one I was more careful with. I simply beat her in punishment for lying, she had said she would stay with me, and she lied! So I beat her, to make her repent, and I made her eat every bit of the pie I had slaved over!” Toriel began to rant, really getting into it, but Flicka’s horrified mind was stuttering to a stop and she could hardly breathe, she felt like everything was going black, and she stopped listening to Toriel going in depth about how she tortured and killed the children who had fallen before, sorrow twisting like a lump in her throat.

She wanted to howl her grief, but something Toriel said caught her wavering attention and she fascinated her focus back on the woman with an intent stare that might have worried the woman if she had been looking at her just then. She had opened her eyes to make sure she focused all of her attention on Toriel and her dark green eyes were almost blazing black with hate.

“-and just about seven days ago a little boy that looks a lot like you fell down, and he stayed with me for four loving, lovely days, little Frisk was such a good boy, so quiet and attentive and obedient. But then he too wanted to leave. He wanted to leave! How dare he spurn my love! I was so angry that I could not help but send some flames at him, just to scare him. Just a little. He was such a good boy. But he fought me! He actually fought me, that little brat! But he fought me by telling me that he did not want to fight! And he said such horrible things to me, made me feel things I had not felt in years, but he was only manipulating me because he wanted to leave! I was so angry. So I sent more fire at him, and I may have gone a bit overboard, but he kept fighting, and saying such cruel things, asking about my son, and I just could not handle it, I kicked him out into the Underground, and he is sure to be dead now and I only wanted to protect him! I told him he would die if he left, but that did not stop him. I hope he died hideously, screaming in pain, lamenting for leaving me!” Toriel screamed that last bit out, her claws curled in rage and wreathed in flames.

But Flicka was just as enraged, and she felt as if she had a burning flame of wrath in her chest and before she knew what she was doing she had leapt to her feet and flew across the room towards the unsuspecting goat-woman whom was standing at the sink. As she ran towards the woman she pulled the knife out of her hoodie pocket without realizing what she was doing, and as Toriel turned at the sound of her steps she plunged the knife into the horrid woman’s chest with a scream of pure rage.

Toriel gave a strangled gasp, her hands reaching out to Flicka and her eyes twitching with shock and pain. Her eyes seemed to almost twitch out of her skull and her mouth gaped open even more as she fell limp to her knees.

“W-wh-why?” She gasped.

“Frisk is my _son_ you bitch!” She snarled, her teeth bore in an animal sneer as she twisted the knife, her eyes glowing in rage.

And to her utter shock the woman dissolved into dust right under her hand. She stared with dismay at the knife in her hand, the dust on the floor, at her feet, **ON** her. She raised her hands to her face, the knife dropping from numb fingers and shrieked.


	4. Repentance

After puking her guts out in the sink, and dry heaving for so long she felt that her stomach must be irredeemably bruised, and then sobbing hysterically for so long that she passed out Flicka finally regained a sense of herself as she blinked her way slowly back to consciousness. She saw that she had passed out barely a foot away from the pile of dust and felt bile rise in the back of her throat. She pushed herself frantically upright and slightly away from the remains and took some desperate shallow breathes through her nose until the urge to retch subsided.

She was kneeling at the floor next to the pile of dust, Toriel’s remains. Toriel….Flicka had killed her. Killed her. She’d murdered her! Just like Toriel had murdered all those poor children…how did that make what Flicka did any better? She was horrified about what she had done, she had always told Frisk as she raised him that hate was wrong, to rise above, be the better person. And he had risen above, he had defeated Toriel without hurting her, but she…..his sister, the one who raised him, she’d murdered, like she had always told him not to ever consider doing.

For him.

And she realized.

If she had to…

She’d do it again.

Any number of times; blacken her soul for him.

She would mourn for Toriel, the poor mad woman, driven insane by loneliness. She’d only wanted to love the children, but her love had been twisted and demented and her obsession only hurt the ones she wanted to love. Flicka would not let that happen to herself. She would accept the consequences of her actions. She had taken a life and would need to repent. And in the meantime she needed to find Frisk. He was all that mattered.

She nodded slowly to herself as she confirmed her priorities. Yes, he was all she needed to concern herself with. The state of her soul was secondary.

Not that becoming a hypocrite was something she was proud of, and she would most certainly need to watch her temper in the future; after all, Frisk had made it through without killing anyone (she hoped, he must have, she could not believe otherwise) and if a child could be unfailing forgiving, how could she do any less.

But still…she looked down at the remains of Toriel. She could not let herself forget what she has done. She eyed the dust narrowly for a long moment and then glanced down at her arm. An idea struck her mind, but she would need to find a mirror first. So leaving Toriel’s remains as they were just for a moment she pushed herself to her feet, and after standing still for a moment until she was sure that she steady, she looked down to see how much of her was covered in dust, and she resisted the urge to shriek when she saw that her entire front was coated in a thin layer of dust.

Gulping back revulsion she carefully brushed what she could off as neatly as she could, and it was harder than she expected, the dust clung with an intensity she had not expected, but eventually she got her pants and hoody mostly free of the pale grey substance. But her hands were still coated and she wondered if washing her hands would be sacrilegious. She stared blankly at her trembling hands, her mind stuttering to a horrified halt. It was like she had blood on her hands.

There was no forgetting her actions, but if she had to think about Toriel’s look of horror as she died every time she looked at her hands she might go mad.

“Forgive me Toriel…” She muttered as she turned to the sink and began to scrub desperately at her hands while tears burned down her cheeks. After ten minutes her hands were raw and pink and she had practically scrubbed her hands bloody, but her hands finally appeared to be clean.

She finally began to feel a bit calmer and more like herself. It was time to leave. She took a deep breath and turned from the sink and rubbed her arms with her hands. She looked around, as if seeing the kitchen for the first time. She sighed sadly and walked back to the living room. She looked at the bookshelf for a moment, but although she loved to read she could not bring herself to benefit from Toriel’s demise.

So she left it alone.

She walked slowly back towards the room that Toriel had prepared for her and entered without hesitation and grabbed her backpack by the strap and slinging it smoothly onto her back.

She looked around the room, as if saying goodbye to something, perhaps the other children, and then left, closing the door softly behind her. She was about to turn to go to the stairs in the main hall, but slowly she looked back towards the other rooms further down the hallway.

She stood there indecisively for many minutes. But she finally decided that since she never planned to return here, she may as well take a look while she was here. So with a slow tread she approached the second door in the hallway. She reached for the doorknob, her hand hesitating a moment before closing slowly around the cool metal. She opened the door slowly, wary of traps. Nothing happened so she pushed the door open and stepped lightly into a room a little bigger than the one she had been given by Toriel. It was nice, if in a little bit of disrepair, Toriel had another bookcase against the far wall, a nice bed against the wall on the left, a table with a lamp and a wastebasket next to it between the foot of the bed and the wall next to the door, a dresser against the far wall but to the right of the bookcase, and atop the table was a journal, open to some passage circled in a bright red ink.

With a morbid curiosity she walked over to the desk, pulling out the chair that had been pushed neatly in, and sat down to skim the diary. It turned out to be a series of rather tasteless (in a morbid way) jokes that nonetheless had her laughing guiltily. They were awful jokes, but the kind that forced a laugh through shock.

She looked up from the book and saw a picture frame lying face down on the desk. She stared at it for a moment and then reached out a hand to flip it up so she could look at the picture. It appeared to be a family picture, Toriel, a male of her species, and what surely must have been their child. Oh no. Now she remembered Toriel saying that Frisk had mentioned her son, this must be him. They must have lost their son, and that was what led to Toriel being here, and the isolation had further broken her…she felt a fresh wave of grief wash over her. She jumped to her feet and began to search the room intently.

Not finding what she was looking for she left, taking the picture and the journal with her as memoires. If nothing else, she would remember that Toriel had lived. She went to the end of the hall and tried the last door, but it was locked, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and whirled to meet the startled gaze of her reflection in the mirror, and was shocked by the change that had been made in her features since she had last seen herself.

Her features seemed haunted and pale, an angelic smile frozen on her face, her dark green (almost black) eyes glassy with shock. She closed her eyes slowly, she did not usually have them open so wide; her and Frisk both had a habit of walking around with their eyes mostly closed. She twitched her lips slightly, trying to stop smiling, found she could not. She raised a hand slowly to her face, rubbed her fingers roughly across her lips, felt the muscles relaxed minutely. She did not really go around without a smile on a day to day basis, but at this moment it seemed…eerie…

She could not stand looking at her reflection any longer, so whirled away and almost ran back down the hall, past the stairs and back into the kitchen, being ever so careful to not disrupt Toriel’s remains.

She put the picture frame and the journal on the counter top and began to frantically search the cupboards, becoming more and more anxious with every time she came up empty, but finally she found what she had been looking for, and she held it up to the light triumphantly.

A glass jar. Perfect.

Flicka sighed in relief and she slowly knelt down next to Toriel’s dust. Her thought earlier had been to gather Toriel’s dust in a jar and bury her, or…something (she had no idea what monsters did with their dead), but now she wondered if maybe Toriel’s husband was still alive. He might not be, but maybe he was. She ought to let him know his wife was dead, the circumstances that led to it, her involvement…it was probably suicidal, but it was the right thing to do.

If she were to be killed for her actions she would accept it…as long as Frisk was ok. As long as she had the chance to apologize for her cruel words first. Let him know she adored him, he was the best thing that ever happened to her. She scrubbed her arm across her eyes as they began to tear up, not wanting her tears to mix with Toriel’s remains.

Unscrewing the lid and setting it to the side she very carefully scooped up Toriel’s dust in her hands and carefully poured the dust into the wide necked mason jar. She took her time; she did not want to spill. There was more dust than she suspected though, and by the time the jar was full there was still a bit of dust left. But that might be just enough to work for something else that she had planned to do. She screwed the lid back on securely, careful to not cross-screw the threads. She took her backpack off and opened the main section. She carefully lay Toriel’s remains inside and then stood up to take the picture frame in her hands.

She looked at the frame for a moment and then flipped it over to take the back off and pull out the picture. She tucked the picture into the journal and then slid the journal into the bag next to the jar of dust. She closed the section and pulled to top flap securely over top and latched it tight.

She still needed…oh, the mirror.

She pulled the backpack back on her back and scooped the remaining dust into the palm of one hand. She also grabbed the toy knife which she had forgotten until now with her other hand and walked slowly across the house towards the mirror at the end of the hall. She stared at her face in the mirror for a long moment. And then with a small determined nod she took the knife and pressed it to her cheek right below the middle of her lower eyelid. She took a deep breath and pressed until she drew blood and then slowly drew the knife down to the base of her cheek. She then repeated the action under her other eye.

After she finished carving the bloody lines into her face she dropped the knife and dipped the fingers of her now free hand into the pile of dust in her other hand and run the dust covered fingers over first one bloody line and then the other, rubbing the dust into her blood, leaving dusty-bloody tear lines beneath her eyes to symbolize her crimes to any who saw her. The dust stung horribly when it made contact with her open wounds, but she took it without flinching. She had a vague worry about infections, but it was too late to worry about it now.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, again struck by the difference in the face she had been so used to seeing. But she was satisfied with her appearance now, and her smile was more natural now.

She glanced down at the knife on the floor and considered taking it with her, but with a firm decision she left it alone. She did not want to kill again. If she had to kill to defend Frisk, next time she would do it with her bare hands. She stepped over the knife without a second thought and walked down the hall for the last time. She paused at the top of the stairs, gave the entrance to Toriel’s house once more, and then began her descent.

“I’m coming Frisk!” She vowed softly, taking the stairs two at a time.

 


	5. Into the cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we bring back Fell!Sans! Who missed the poor baby? I did. This is one of my favorite chapters.  
> 

The door was huge.

Flicka stared up at the door respectfully. The passageway leading to the door had been almost ridiculously long so she should have expected the door itself to be massive but it was still surprising. As with everything else in the ruins the door was red, like the floor and the walls of the hallway. It was starting to nauseate her and she hoped that there would be another color on the other side.

She did notice the seal that had been above the first door in the Ruins and on Toriel’s robe was emblazoned on the door. Maybe it was a family seal. Was Toriel Queen maybe?

Did that mean she’d killed the Queen?

She felt even worse now, it was unlikely she’d survive her encounter with Toriel’s husband, no matter how estranged they had become. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to dispel the goosebumps that had rose on her flesh at the horror of what she had done.

Maybe she should just stay here. She leaned her head against the door, trying not to cry with frustration. If she left she would surely die, because she would take Toriel’s remains to her husband, no matter what and he would kill her, she knew he would…

She sighed and leaned her entire body against the cold door; forcing herself to still her frantic thoughts. Her potential death did not matter. That was not her main priority right now. She was tired of walking, but here was the final obstacle between her and Frisk (she hoped, although she knew deep down it would not be so simple) she just had to get it open.

Rolling her shoulders to loosen the joints and setting her weight evenly between her feet she began to push on the right door. Apparently the hinges were well balanced because it opened easier than she had expected and she almost fell on her face in the snow.

Snow?

As in winter?

 _Underground_!?

Her mind whirled with confused questions as she stumbled forward several paces until she managed to regain her balance.

She wasn’t dressed for winter.

She suddenly felt an instinctual need to not be where she was standing, and she leapt clumsily to the side, landing in a snow drift. She looked up in time to see a series of projected bones (some red and some white) fly through the air where she had just been standing; and as she watched the door swung back closed with a thud that had finality to it. Obviously she was not stuck out here with whoever had just attacked her.

With bones.

Great.

 **“why did you reset?!”** a voice wailed in rage that ran into despair on the last syllable. Flicka froze momentarily as she tried to make sense of the words and decided that she needed to be very careful. She slid her arms out of the straps of her backpack to increase her mobility and carefully got back to her feet, her eyes searching the gloom for her attacker. She did not have to wait long, out of the shadows of the trees across from her came a short skeleton that seemed a little taller than Frisk, his left eye socket glowing with a bright red flame that flickered, his sharp teeth bore in a wide grin that had no humor in it and his hands were glowing red too.

 **“did you think i would not notice? i’m not that fucking dense, sweetheart.”** he chided with a teasing tone, but his voice was deep and growled in a way that made a shiver run down her spine.

That was all she had time to take in before he attacked her again.

**“why.”**

And again.

**“did.”**

And a third time.

**“you”**

After the third time when she had actually performed a back handspring to get away from the projectiles (never thought she would be grateful to her uncle for forcing her into gymnastics) he seemed to decide to try something different.

**“reset?!”**

One hand rose towards her and she felt suddenly heavy and fell to her hands and knees, too shocked to try and resist. It did not help that she was starting to feel a little worn out by the exertion, but when he waved his hand towards her again she scampered to the side in time to avoid another flurry of bones that buried themselves in the snow where she had just been. This guy was serious about killing her; what had she done to upset him?

 **“you promised you would never fucking do it again, frisk!”** He accused viciously, his hands now curled into fists. Flicka blinked, and got carefully to her feet and started to walk slowly towards the skeleton, trying to read his face as she approached with her hands spread at her sides to show she was unarmed. He looked furious, but Flicka thought she could see behind the fury to a child’s panicked reaction after a nightmare.

She had also noticed the name he called her by, he knew her brother; thought she was her brother. Which was a little odd, she was almost a foot and a half taller and obviously female while Frisk was prepubescent still.

He trembled with what she assumed was exhaustion as she began to approach him, and his left eye flickered out like his flame had been doused and he began to back away from her, matching every step forward she took with one back until he hit a tree and stopped.

 **“why would you…you promised…you fucking liar”** His voice had fallen into a terrified whimper, his eye sockets gone completely black. She felt a deep upwelling of affection for the poor terrified skeleton, and she felt urged to comfort him.

“Shh, honey, I’m not Frisk.” She said in a soft and soothing tone as soon as she thought she was close enough for him to hear her and see her clearly. “My name is Flicka, I am Frisk’s--mother. I came here to look for him. Have you seen him?” She continued in a soothing tone, pausing only momentarily as she internally debated on what relation she wanted her and Frisk to be known by; so she had not been focusing on him as she spoke and she had certainly not expected his reaction to her calm words.

He fell to his knees with a wail as his skeletal hands came up to cover his eyes and she could see that he was actually scratching furrows in his brow bones, and she was certain it must have hurt. She ran the rest of the way to his side and dropped down by him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders; he flinched at her touch and then he began to tremble while trying to pull away.

“Hush, honey, I won’t hurt you.” She cooed sweetly as she shifted to sit beside him, laying her head against his and lifting one hand to stroke his, trying to stop him from clawing his face up any more. She could feel him shudder against her and he made a choking gasp that might have been a restrained sob. She tried to cuddle closer to him to get him to relax but her whirled to face her with a growl, lashing out with sharpened finger bones that only missed her face because she threw herself backwards into the snow.

He leapt atop her, his clawed fingers digging into her shoulders and his knees on either side of her hips, his teeth a feral snarl that was still shaped like a smile. He was rather threatening, but she could still see him trying not to cry, so instead of flinching away she raised her hands to cup his cheeks, ignoring the pain of his claws puncturing the back of shoulders through her shirts although she could feel herself bleeding.

“It’s okay, baby-bones, I won’t hurt you.” She cooed in the same tone as before, not allowing any fear or unease to show on her face.

 **“…why.”** He growled, leaning down until he was nose to nose hole with her. She blinked slowly, the way she would to an uneasy cat, and leaned her head forward to tap her forehead against his, not breaking eye contact.

“Why would I?” she whispered stroking her fingers down the sides of his cheeks. He shuddered against her and his eye lights appeared again, although they flickered wildly, first looking at her face and then looking around, searching.

 **“…i don’t…understand…you…and….frisk….why?”** he whimpered, his fingers slowly retracting from her shoulders and he stared at her with a desperate need to understand. Then his eye sockets narrowed and he snarled. **“you should not be here human! i should fucking kill you!”** He whispered angrily; but it felt like he was trying to convince himself that more than threatening her.

“Then do it, baby-bones. Just promise to take of my son.” She told him calmly while dropping her hands by her head, leaving herself absolutely open to attack as she closed her eyes and lay her head down into the snow.

She waited patiently for him to do something, breathing calmly although she was beginning to feel a bit frozen as the snow soaked through her layers; but at least it was numbing her shoulders.  
He was silent for a long moment before snarling in her ear, **“you have the dust of monsters on your hands, i can see your LV, you are a damned murderer!”**

She startled, her eyes snapping open and she stared at him in guilty shock. Feeling ill she allowed her eyes to close again and lay completely limp. He was right.

“Yes. I’m so sorry. I killed Toriel; I killed her in revenge for all the other children who had fallen and been tortured and murdered by her hand, for her torture of Frisk. But you’re right. I did kill, I deserve whatever punishment you deem appropriate, just please take care of my son.” She whispered miserably.

He was silent for a long time while she lay waiting to die.

 **“you killed for your son?”** He asked in a low tone, voice still at her ear. She felt his fingers trailing up from her shoulders to stroke her throat as he settled his weight on her hips, actively pinning her now. She nodded sadly as his words brought her a revelation about the darkness in her heart.

“Yes. I love him more than anything, beyond measure” she started, feeling grief like a lump in her throat. “I thought I was like him; I raised him to be loving and generous and peaceful, but in reality I am willing to destroy the world, monster and human alike to defend him. To keep him pure. To keep him happy. I think I am too dangerous…kill me, baby-bones. Never let him know I came for him.” She said with sincerity, waiting to be killed as tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

He was silent for a long moment, long enough for her to begin shivering with cold.

 **“i feel the same way about my brother…”** he finally whispered. She opened her eyes again, staring blankly up at his eyes, they were glowing red again, but not with anger.

Was he not going to kill her? She stared into his eyes for a long silent minute, waiting for him to do something, to do anything.

“If you aren’t going to kill me, baby-bones, can you let me up? I’m very cold…” She asked in a small voice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art I've drawn for this chapter](http://felliskelli.tumblr.com/post/151863297711/pictures-ive-drawn-for-chapter-5-of-falling-for)


	6. Dirty Jokes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally some sin for you all!

**“do you like dirty jokes?”** Sans asked a little shyly as he played with her hair, intent on the soft shiny strands. He had her hair pulled over his shoulder and was unbraiding and re-braiding it with his nimble finger bones, in fact, he was braiding it better than she ever could. 

She was sitting up with her back against a tree, bundled warmly in his fluffy-lined hoody and him nestled against her, between her knees, his back against her front. She was a little surprised that he had been willing to cuddle; but she decided that he was the sort to be very physical with those he felt comfortable with. She wasn’t complaining, he was adorable. She had left the hoodie unzipped and had him wrapped up inside with her, and even though he was a skeleton he was putting off heat for reasons she attributed to magic. And as the hoody was long enough to cover her butt she was able to sit on it, so for now she was rather comfortable.

The first thing he had done when he had calmed down was look at her face, her cheeks covered with blood (her own), and dust (Toriel’s), and the cuts down her cheeks still bleeding sluggishly even in the cold air. He had simply stared silently at her for so long that she was starting to feel worried, but then he had taken some snow in his hands and gently washed her cheeks before making his fingertips glow green and healing the cuts; but leaving scars at her behest.

She had returned the favor and gently cleaned his face from the red tint of his tears.

She was also feeling calmer now that he had informed her that Frisk was with his brother Papyrus, examining Papyrus’ traps apparently. Relief had made her feel limp and just in the mood to cuddle, and Sans was a great cuddle-buddy.

His question caught her a little off guard, and she stared at the back of his head for a moment, debating on how to answer. She could only assume that he liked dirty jokes (and her mind suddenly pictured Toriel’s journal with her dark, twisted jokes), so he must have traded jokes with Toriel. She was not a huge fan of dirty jokes, but she knew a fair amount. And if she had really killed a friend of his, it was only just that she make up for it however she could.

“Of course I do, those are the best kind!” She agreed with a broad grin as she began to think of her best ones. After wracking her brains she giggled with a small flush beginning to color her cheeks, “Um, how is sex like a game of bridge? If you have a great hand, you don’t need a partner.”

Sans laughed before shifting so that he could look up at her, grinning, his finger bones still twisting her hair. She leaned her head back against the tree and smirked, giving him her best, ‘your-turn’ look.

He barely even paused before he came up with a come-back.

 **“how do you bring a man back from the dead? you suck on his dick until he cums back”**. Sans declared with a wide grin. Flicka rolled her eyes at the lame joke, although her lips were curled in amusement while she thought up another joke.

“What's the difference between being hungry and horny? Where you put the cucumber.” She stated, trying not to giggle. Sans didn’t bother trying to cover his snort of laughter before launching into playful leer.

 **“you know, it's not the length of the vector that counts... it's how you apply the force.”** He drawled with an attempt at a leer which left her giggling.

“Are you an architect? ‘Cause I want you on staff for my next erection.” She announced with a laugh.

 **“baby, your bone structure is giving my "bone" structure.”** He teased with a broad wink that had her giggling again.

“Do you like cherries? If not can I have yours?” She taunted, trying to be serious but giggling at the last word. Sans laughed too, so hard that he leaned forward, inadvertently tugging her hair and she gave a strangled moan as the sharp jerk sent a jolt of pleasure to her groin.

That was weird. Her scalp had always been sensitive, and she told Sans as much in a slightly chiding tone, but it did not usually turn her on if someone pulled her hair...in fact, no one had ever actually succeeded in just...turning her on without physically manipulating her or drugging her.

 **“i’m sorry!”** Sans yelped, sounding actually panicked and he tried to move away from her, his eyes wide and frantic. His panic pulled her out of her confused musing and she hurried to soothe him.

“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean it like that. It just turned me on a little when you did that....” She admitted with a small grin nas she nuzzled his neck, fascinated by being able to directly touch his spine.

 **“oh…oh!”** He turned his head to look up at her, his eyes glowing red and his cheeks a little flushed. He seemed delighted and that had her a little worried.

 **“you like to be hurt?”** he asked in a low voice that made a shiver run down her spine and she unconsciously rocked her hips against him. She bit her lower lip and looked to the side. Wow..he was…really getting her worked up.

It seemed that since she hated humans, skeletons might just do it for her.

“Um, not...really? I mean, I’m something of a masochist, but that was just something I became after years of abuse you know, like self defense? And, like, it is a particular kind of pain…” She explained a little randomly, trying to explain her proclivities. She hoped he would not ask about the abuse, but it was always good to let someone you planned on having sex about that right? Not that she’d ever been with someone she actually WANTED to have sex with, so this was new ground.

Wait, she wanted to have sex with Sans?

The realization hit her like a bolt, and she turned wide eyes to the shorter skeleton to see him leering up at her.

 **“you like rough sex?”** he prompted, his voice dropping further. She was about to correct him, explain that she did not like sex at all, that it had always been forced on her, when he opened his mouth to show her an ectoplasmic tongue, glowing with his red magic and dripping as it hung down past his chin. He was staring at her with half-closed eyes, his mouth parted in a smug smirk.

She stared in rapt fascination.

“That…is so hot…” she whispered in awe. She was starting to feel a little dry in her mouth and licked her lips before she realized what she was doing, and Sans response was to make a small growl in the back of his throat that had her unconsciously rocking her hips into him again, harder this time, his tailbone grinding into her crotch and she made a desperate moan as her eyes rolled back at the sensation before she inched back, flushing with embarrassment at her own boldness.  

But Sans did not seem upset, in fact, he was looking quite pleased with himself, a red flush coloring his cheeks, his eyes glowing.

He also smelled amazing. She had not noticed before, but she could now detect a smoky, musky scent coming from him, a little sweet too and she leaned forward towards his neck without meaning too, inhaling deeply, her eyelids drifting shut as she enjoyed his scent.

**“you want to see what I can do with this?”** he purred, shifting so that he was facing her, still between his knees, his face inches from her. His fingers were still wrapped in her hair which he now held between them. She found herself drawn towards him, her eyes staring at the tongue with a growing hunger and she felt a mounting need pool in her loins, she was starting to feel a little wet, and just from seeing his tongue and a little pain.

Flicka briefly wondered if it was wrong to be getting so hot for a monster she had determined needed motherly affection, but just as quickly decided it did not matter, she could give him both things, whatever she had to do to keep that haunted, horrified tremor out of his voice, anything that would keep him from trying to claw out his non-existence eyes.

And besides which, she could just tell that he would be a thousand times better a lover than any human she had ever been with.

Mind made up to just go with it she gave the skeleton a hungry smirk and opened her mouth to him. “Show me,” she panted.

He did not make her wait; a growling moan rumbled from him as he dropped her hair, his hands coming up to clutch her shoulders as he pressed her back against the tree and his mouth slammed against hers, his teeth cutting her lips slightly as his tongue thrust desperately into her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him to her as she sucked on his tongue, intoxicated by the taste of his magic. Their tongues wrestled for dominance until Flicka allowed his to win, and he explored her mouth thoroughly.

He tasted amazing. Unlike humans he actually had a distinct flavor, she attributed it to his magic; he tasted like dark bitter chocolate and cherries, with a hint of tabacoo and something spicy underneath that gave his flavor just a bit of a bite. She could happily get drunk on the taste of him and she moaned her appreciation as her mind started to feel fuzzy.

Panting, his hands slid from her shoulders to her neck, then up to cup her jaw gently; at the same time he slid closer to her, sliding his legs beneath hers until he could buck his hips against her. She gave a little mewl without meaning to, and rocked her hips into his, enjoying the grinding pressure. Sans began to thrust his tongue into her throat, and although she gagged initially she adjusted quickly, her eyes rolling back in her head at the feeling of deep throating his tongue.

She was beginning to feel lightheaded, and she was pretty sure that she was soaking through her pants by this point. She began to buck into him with a frantic need, a low whine in her throat.

He pulled away, their tongues connected by a long strand of red saliva and she moaned low and needy. “S-sanss….” She panted, her face red with embarrassment and lust. His face was even redder than hers, and his eyes were almost aflame with his red magic. Her eyes dropped down for a moment as she saw a red glow through his pants.

“Is that what I think it is?” She panted, curiosity warring with lust. She licked her lips and reached down to grip his manifested cock through his shorts. “It issss…” She purred and squeezed the warm length as he grunted in surprise and bucked into her hand, his hands dropping back to her shoulders.

 **“fl-flicka!”** He gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head and his gaping mouth leaking drool and he continued to rock into her hand. She squeezed a little harder and he squeaked, which was the most fascinating sound she had ever heard, and she tried to get him to repeat the sound as she reached her hand boldly into his shorts to hold him in her hand, skin to ectoplasmic skin. He was warm and throbbing in her hand, slick with his precum, so like and unlike a human phallus. All told she preferred his penis to any human one she had been unfortunate enough to encounter.

She began to pump her hand harder and faster while Sans continued to make the most adorable sounds as he clung to her, his eyes rolled back and his tongue hanging out of his mouth; he was precious, she wanted to see his face when he came.

“Good boy, Sans, come for me,” She demanded, reaching her other hand into his pants to press against his slit. He gave a little wail and came apart in her hand, hot red cum gushing over the both of them. It was beautiful.

He fell limp against her, a satiated look on his face. She had never felt so powerful before, it was heady stuff. She was still feeling a little uncomfortably moist though, and wondered if she could convince him to help with that.

“Hey, baby-bones…” She murmured, jostling him slightly, it looked like he was about ready to fall asleep, but he looked up at her, curiously. She flushed bright red. “Um…can…-” She coughed, wondering why she was feeling so embarrassed. “-you help me with my…” She trailed off, and he seemed to finally catch up with her trail of thought and he gave her a wicked grin.

 **“what do you want?”** he asked teasingly. She rocked her hips into him, hoping to give him the hint but he just nuzzled her innocently. **“you need to tell me…”** he taunted, licking her neck and she gasped.

“I…want you to…use your tongue-" She paused, embarrassed and she reached her hands up to cover her face as she continued, "-in my cunt” she managed with a moan. The predatory look he gave her as he reached up to pull her hands away almost made her cum, and he slid down her body with maddeningly slowness until he was on his hands and knees, his mouth inches from her crotch.

 **“you’re soaked all through…”** he taunted. **“such a naughty, dirty girl…”** he continued, his voice dropping as he chided her, she whined at his teasing, and when he began to trail his fingers lightly over her clothed pelvis she just about cried.

“Please stop teasing me, Sans!” She moaned, tears in her eyes. He chuckled darkly and seemed to take pity on her as his fingers reached up to begin to unbutton and unzip her jeans and she lifted her hips up to help him ease them and her underwear over her hips and down to her ankles.

He licked his teeth slowly and then placed his hands on her inner thighs to spread her wider, she eagerly complied and gave a shuddery moan when he finally relented, licking his tongue up her slit slowly before delving in.

“Ahnn~! Sa-ns!” She gasped; his tongue was so thick, so flexible. He was able to reach surprisingly deep with his manifested appendage, and she could no longer think coherently. It felt so good and she shifted her hips so that he could reach deeper and her hand reached out to grip his skull, holding him to her as she panted.

“Oh! God, SANS!” She gasped, frantic for release as she began to buck into his mouth with wild abandon. “More!” She demanded.

He reached one hand towards her dripping cunt and he began to finger her sensitive clit roughly, and she came around his tongue with a scream of delight. He slurped up her juices with sounds of enjoyment, while she spasmed with release around him. Once she had come down from her orgasm he slowly pulled out, his tongue dripping with his red saliva and her clear fluids.

She lay back against the tree, still feeling tingles of pleasure across her spine.

“That was amazing…” She panted, sated. Sans looked up at her, his face contemplative, and then he began to tug her underwear and jeans back into place, she lifted her hips up again when he got to her thighs. He then adjusted his own shorts and cuddled against her, still silent and thoughtful.

“What are you thinking, baby-bones?” She asked softly, stroking his skull.

 **“…i want you to stay.”** He muttered, wrapping his arms around her possessively. She looked down at him, confused.

“Well, we do need to get cleaned up…” She started slowly.

 **“i mean, here. underground. with me.”** He clarified, his voice getting smaller as he made his desires more clear. She blinked, shocked.

“Oh…”

 **“i know, it’s stupid, you came to get frisk and go back to the surface…i’m so fucking stupid, forget it.”** He said quickly, self-hatred heavy in his voice. She wrapped her arms around him again, kissing his forehead.

“No, no. Baby-bones. You aren’t.” She comforted hastily. “I came for Frisk yes, but there is not one thing on the surface for either of us. If Frisk wants to stay down here too, then so will I; we both will. Stay with you I mean. I like you a lot, Baby-bones, I’d love to stay with you.” She realized she was rambling and nuzzled him to cover her embarrassment. He pulled back to stare at her, incredulous. He was trembling, and looked ready to cry.

 **“you mean that?”** he asked in a whisper, looking so needy and lost that she placed her hands gently on his cheeks and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, his cheeks, his mouth.

“Yes I do, I want to stay with you Sans.” She repeated softly, nuzzling his cheek. He looked up at her as if she had given him the moon.

 **“you won’t leave me?”** he asked in a small voice, and she could see that he was terrified at the idea, he was even trembling. She tapped her forehead against his and grinned.

“I can’t make promises until I talk to Frisk, Sans. But if he agrees to stay Underground, which I suspect he will, then we will move in with you.” She said solemnly, making sure to keep eye contact with him the entire time. He looked so small to her, so delicate. She wondered what betrayals he had seen in his life to make him so fragile. Something occurred to her and she pulled back slightly. “What about your brother?”

Sans lifted a startled deer-in-the-headlights look to her, terrified and he clung to her trembling and she thought for a moment that he was scared of his brother; and she immediately thought of all the abuse she had gone through at the hands of her uncle, her back twinging with remembrance of the weekly whippings. But his words filled her with a vague relief,

**“oh! boss will be angry, he…did not give me permission!”** he gasped, his face red and his eyes tearing up, and she noticed, as if for the first time the red leather spiked collar around his neck. She picked up the silver tag, as she suspected it said ‘Property of Papyrus’. She giggled, more relieved that he was not being abused than actually amused, and tapped his forehead with hers. 

“Ah baby-bones, is Papyrus your Dom?” She purred softly. He looked confused, so she tried to clarify, “Is he the Dominant to your Submissive; your Master?” He blushed so bright red that he was almost letting off steam as he nodded shyly. She kissed his forehead and sighed. “I’m sorry I tempted you to betray him, I’ll explain to him.” She promised softly. That seemed to relieve him, and he all but collapsed against her.

**“okay, mama.”** He murmured sleepily and she giggled as she leaned her head back against the tree.

“If I’m your mama and your brother is your lover…” She pointed out with a wide grin.

 **“kinda a _screwed_ up family…”** he muttered with a small grin. She laughed at his choice of words.

“But as long as we have love…”

**“it may not be so bad…”**


	7. Reunited

She allowed Sans to sleep for an hour, because she figured he was in need of the sleep; the hollows under his eye sockets gave her the impression that he did not sleep well, and she also had the feeling that he was plagued by nightmares, considering how anxious and prone to panic he was. But after an hour had gone by she gently nudged him awake.

“Wake up, baby-bones; time to go check on your traps, yeah?” She cooed softly as she allowed him to come to awareness at his own pace. He shifted slightly, made a complaining mumble and then blinked his eyes open sleepily. He was adorable.

 **“hmm…ten more minutes…”** He complained as he closed his eyes again. She laughed and shook his shoulder lightly.

“Nah, nah, baby-bones. I let you have ten minutes, and we’ll be here for another hour.” She teased with a giggle. He sighed and opened his eyes again. She kissed his forehead. “I want you to show me your traps; and I want to see Frisk.” She added with a grin.

 **“okay, okay…”** he groaned as he got to his feet. He brushed snow off of his pants and then turned to hold a hand out to her. She was a little surprised by the gesture but took the hand without hesitation. He pulled her to her feet easily, which made her curious about his form.

“So how do you move when you don’t have muscles or…nerves or….skin…” She started, before realizing that her question might be rude. But his response was to laugh and spin her about before letting go of her hand.

 **“magic.”** He said with a wink and a broad grin. She blinked, about ready to accept the response before he laughed. **“well, that and skeletons are just a monster race. so we exist with the same…functions as the other monsters.”**

“So…magic.” She concluded with a giggle as she pulled the hood over her head to shadow her face.

 **“pretty much.”** He agreed with a shrug as he took her hand in his again and starting to walk her over a bridge and past a sentry station. They walked in companionable silence for several minutes while he pointed out some interesting landmarks. A human shaped lamp, his sentry station, the trees…the snow…not a lot to look at admittedly until the path opened up, one path leading up to a fishing pole over a river, and the rest continuing around a bend in the trees.

“Are there a lot of skeletons down here?” She asked curiously after they had snuck around some snowflake looking monsters, complimented some Icecaps, and avoided Jerry.

Ugh. Jerry. She shuddered at the memory of the one time they had met Jerry. She had actually wanted to kill him the moment she had seen him, just, dust him with her bare hands after barely a minute of listening to him talk; Sans had told her that most people had that reaction to him. By far he was the worst thing down here. When Sans spoke up to answer he question she was thankfully pulled away from her memory of the hideous beast that no one liked.

 **“as far as i know there is just papyrus and me.”** Sans told her, turning to look up at her and pausing mid-step. She stopped with him and looked down at him curiously.

“Is that why…” she prompted with a smirk.

 **“no. even if there were other skeletons…i would still be in love with papyrus…”** Sans answered firmly with a dark red flush coloring his cheeks.

“You are so adorable when you gush about Papyrus…I can’t wait to meet him.” She teased as she kissed his forehead. He just chuckled darkly and shook his head.

 **“heh…he’s sort of a huge asshole. no one but me and his captain actually like him.”** He warned with a dark twist to his mouth. She shrugged lightly and made a noncommittal sound of agreement. He tugged her hand and got her to start walking again.

The had walked past what seemed to be two other sentry stations, but Sans had seemed nervous and had not explained them to her, and she decided not to ask.

The snow abruptly turned into a small field of ice which Sans guided her carefully around, pointing out a snowman standing on a precipice over the river.

 **“be careful about him, he seems nice enough, but he’ll try and eat you if you get to close.”** Sans warned seriously, his mouth spread in grin that did not reach his eye sockets. She nodded her understanding and bent down to touch the ice, but he yanked her away, knocking her into a snowdrift. **“the ice is imbued with some of my blue magic, if you touch it you’ll be pulled over and get stuck sliding to the other side.”** He explained apologetically as he helped her to her feet.

She laughed. “That’s amazing!” He looked at her with wide eyes sockets, his eye lights flickering with shock. She nuzzled his face and tugged his hand. “Show me your other traps!” She coaxed with a smile, trying to soothe him.

 **“i uh, only have a couple others…”** he began bashfully.

“Takes too much energy to upkeep?” She teased and he ducked his head, looked ashamed. “Hey, baby-bones, it’s okay.” She said softly, taking his other hand in hers and tapping their foreheads together. “You’re fine. Just fine.”

 **“i’m such a fuck-up…”** he growled, his eyes screwed shut.

“shh, baby-bones, you aren’t.” She denied, tightening her fingers around his and kissing his forehead. “I swear, you aren’t.”

He leaned his head against her, trembling. What had happened to him to make him have such a low self-esteem? She ran a finger down the back of his skull and down his neck, stroking the vertebra lightly.

“Come on, Sans, let’s just go on.” She pleaded softly. He gave a low sigh and then finally nodded.

 **“okay…”** he muttered. After a moment she released his right hand and he slowly stepped back and began to lead her down the path again. He was smiling again, but it looked fake, like a habit, but she didn’t comment.

The path started leading north and opened up into a square clearing that was clear of snow except at the edges. Sans came to a stop at the edge of the cleared space and she stopped beside him, he was staring at the ground thoughtfully and then he turned to face her with a broad grin.

 **“this is the first of boss’s traps.”** He told her proudly. He led her around the cleared space, pausing at the top and pointing towards a shimmering sheen that hovered over the ground, only visible from this angle. **“well, except for the bars that, er, block the bridge leading from the ruins. anyways, the ground here is electrified, except for a path.”**

“Um, why is there a path?” She asked curiously.

 **“because it’s a puzzle, boss likes leaving a way out.”** Sans answered with a laugh.

“So he has a sense of fair play?” She asked, raising an eyebrow wryly.

 **“yeah, isn’t he the coolest?”** Sans gushed, his eye lights appearing like hearts in his eye sockets.

She giggled and nudged the shorter skeleton affectionately with her hip. “You have such a brother-complex.” She teased, enjoying the flush that colored his cheeks. He growled up at her playfully.

 **“you could say that i would be _bonely_ without him.”** He said with a wink. She chuckled.

“That was awful. Not _humerus_ at all.” She teased. He laughed and continued to lead her safely around the electrified ground until they came to a bridge leading to yet more snow.

**“it did not touch your _funny-bone_?”**

They crossed the bridge easily and came to a bigger area that spread out ahead of them and also to the south, and there was more a big area cleared of snow that followed the landscape to the south for the most part which seemed to curve in a jagged z shape, and there was a large snowball incongruously in the middle of the cleared space straight ahead.

“It struck to the _marrow_.”

They both stood for a moment, laughing at their series of puns when they heard a loud, bombastic voice which carried on the cold air from around the bend up ahead.

“AND THIS, LITTLE HU-MONSTER, IS THE NEXT OF MY, THE GREAT PAPYRUS’, GREAT TRAPS! THIS ONE JUST AS DEADLY AS THE REST, BEHOLD, IT IS FABULOUS!”

Flicka looked in the direction of the voice, a little surprised at how, dramatic the voice was, he obviously had a theatrical flair; she had not expected that, but then again Sans had not gotten around to talking about him all that much; just that he was one of the most powerful monsters in the Underground, the coolest, strongest, best fighter and would take good care of Frisk. Okay, so Sans had talked a lot about Papyrus.

A lot.

“AS YOU CAN SEE, THIS TRAP, LIKE THE OTHERS, IS ANOTHER PROOF OF THE INGENIOUS PLANNING OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”

“Does your brother always speak in third person?” She asked slowly, turning to look down at Sans.

 **“he does when he talks about his…achievements.”** Sans answered with a grin, tugging her towards the voice. He came to a stop in the middle of the clear spot where the path turned south, and appeared ready to wait. She stopped next to him, her free hand stuffed in her pocket and she felt something plastic under her fingers. She glanced down and pulled her hand out; she was holding a mustard packet.

“BE CAREFUL THERE, LITTLE HU-MONSTER, THAT IS THE SWITCH, BEWARE THE SPIKES!”

“Mustard?” she asked, confused. He reached across her for the packet with his free hand and practically yanked it from her fingers before tearing it open with his teeth and just about inhaling it. She giggled.

“Well, I know what flavor cake to bake you for your birthday now…” She mused with a chuckle; she ignored Sans’ look of confusion as she peered around the bend, looking for Frisk.

Anxious to see him again after what has felt like weeks apart.

She did not have to wait for long, just after she had mentioned the cake and Sans had looked at her they could both hear the sound of a subdued explosion which had her briefly concerned until Sans laughed.

 **“boss is just showing off, he won’t let the kid get hurt.”** He assured her with a grin. She gave him a slightly askance glance, but allowed him to comfort her.

And moments later she saw a tall skeleton in black and red armor and a small shimmery black cloaked figure with a strange bone-like face, a flower in the middle of their chest. She looked at Sans questioningly.

**“i made your frisk a monster disguise, it’s masterful, yeah?”**

“It’s amazing, Sans. He doesn’t look human at all…” She agreed, impressed. She then waved a hand above her head, drawing attention to herself and Sans; Papyrus noticed immediately, and she could practically feel his bloodlust from here and she arched a brow as she glanced at Sans.

“Wow, Baby-bones; your brother has some aura there…” she murmured and Sans raised a hand to grip his collar with a nervous chuckle and tugged her to stand behind him slightly. “What, you think he might attack?”

 **“i…just want to be careful…”** He muttered, his left eye glowing a faint red. Papyrus seemed furious, but before he had a chance to do anything the shorter figure next to him broke away, sprinting towards her.

“Mommy?!” Frisk cried in shocked delight as he raised his mask from his face and tossed it at Papyrus who reluctantly caught it. She vaguely noticed a confused expression on the flower's...face.

She gently pulled her hand from Sans and ran to meet Frisk, swooping him up under his armpits and lifting him into the air as she spun them both about in dizzying circles. Frisk giggled in delight and the flower's face broke into a wide grin that had her pausing for a moment, her brain stuttering to a halt. Then Frisk reached forward to wrap his arms around her neck as she allowed the two of them to fall into a snowdrift. She was careful to not crush the flower.

Frisk squealed when she rolled them over in the snow, pinning him, before sitting up and dumping a handful of snow on his face. Giggling she got up and ran while Frisk chased, wanting revenge.

While they were gallivanting Papyrus had slowly made his way to Sans side, and they watched the two humans in confusion.

Frisk eventually tackled his mother into another snowdrift and she rolled over to pull him into her arms. She was vaguely aware of Sans and his brother having a discussion, easily overheard since Papyrus did not exactly try to keep his voice down.

-“WHAT ARE THEY DOING, SANS?”

**-“um, playing, boss.”**

-“PLAYING?! WHY WASTE TIME IN SUCH POINTLESS PURSUITS? AND WHY WERE YOU FRATERNIZING WITH YET ANOTHER HUMAN?!”

**-“um, that…that’s flicka, frisk’s mom, she…came looking for him.”**

Flicka pulled her attention away from the skeleton brothers and looked down at the boy in her arms. “Frisk. I am so sorry, sweetheart.” She murmured remorsefully as she nuzzled his hair.

“You came for me!” Frisk exclaimed in a pleased voice as he returned the nuzzle while tightening his arms around her neck.

“Of course, my darling, I’d follow you to hell.” She swore in a fierce growl that had him tightening his arms even more. She could feel the flower pressing against her collarbone and she and her son both immediately pulled apart, her frantic, him embarrassed. She looked down at the cute little plant, which was puffing it's cheeks out in annoyance. She just about squealed.

She kissed the little plant in the middle of it's face. "Sorry, dear." she cooed, the flower looked pleased.

"Hi! I'm Flowey the Flower! Frisk told me about you, you are his mother!" Flowey said, his (the voice was somewhat masculine, but sounded rather young, about Frisk's age maybe) smile brighter. Flicka grinned happily.

"He talked about me?"

“I knew I would see you again, I realized while I was with Toriel that…that you had just been stressed, you hadn’t meant it; but I was…I was so scared, and I just, I thought it might be better for you…so I ran…I’m sorry mom.” Frisk interjected a little sadly, and in the back of her mind Flicka was impressed with just how many words in a row the boy had made; he had been functionally mute for years after their parents had died, he had only began to speak (to her at least) a year ago. It was wonderful to hear his voice. He had refused to meet her eyes as he apologized, but then he grinned and raised his eyes to hers and gasped. “MOM! Your face!”

For a moment Flicka had no idea what the boy was referring to, but as she began to lift a hand to her face she remembered the lines she had carved in her cheeks and she froze, remembering the murder she had committed to find her son. “These were self-inflicted, hun.” She said with a sigh, lowering her hand to the ground to lever herself upright. Frisk slowly sat up and examined her cheeks with narrowed eyes, looking annoyed.

“Why.”

“I…wanted to remember what I did in the Ruins; what I did to find you.” She explained, skirting the issue for now. She would tell him the truth eventually (she had never once lied to him or hid an unpleasant truth from him longer than it took to be in a safe place with time to calmly discuss the issue) but she really did not want to talk about it now. Frisk could tell from her tone that she would continue the explanation later, and nodded with a shallow sigh. Her eyes dropped and she saw Flowey looking up at her with a brief look of horror before it became understanding. He knew what she had done. He smiled sadly at her and she felt lower than the snow beneath her feet.

And that was when Frisk looked at her shirt and saw some strange thick red stains.

“Um…what is that, mom?” He asked, his nose wrinkling in confusion. Flicka glanced down to see what her son was concerned about before seeing the state of her clothing and flushing a bright red as she turned to look at Sans.

Sans gave her a panicked look and she shifted her attention to his towering brother, actually getting a good look at him as she shifted her attention back to Frisk and stood up.

She looked back at Papyrus; and had to keep from whistling her appreciation with a clenched jaw. He was actually pretty hot for a skeleton, a taller, sharper, jagged version of Sans; more dangerous, more angry, more confident. And he was glowering at her like she had just kicked a puppy. She caught San’s frantic eyes once more and gave him an apologetic smile and a small shrug as she looked down at Frisk who had just stood up, looking worried.

“Mom?” He prompted, grabbing her arm. Flicka gave a long drawn out sigh before answering.

“Sans and I had sex.” she informed him with a small bashful grin. Frisk’s eyes widened and he looked even more worried. Flowey looked just as startled, and a small yellow flush covered his cheeks.

“WHATTTT?!?!!”

“…oh…” he answered softly.

“It was consensual and we both enjoyed ourselves.” She quickly reassured him. He relaxed and smiled.

“Oh. Ok.” He replied, happily. Flowey looked up at Frisk at that point, mouth agape at the boy's easy approval of the situation.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! YOU DARE, YOU, A HUMAN, DARE, TOUCH MY, THE GREAT PAPYRUS’ PROPERTY?! AND YOU, YOU FILTHY WHORE; THE DOGS WERE BAD ENOUGH...BUT...YOU….HORRIBLE….WORTHLESS…TRAITOROUS…” Papyrus so was enraged that he was sputtering, his eyes flaring crimson, his teeth gaping and his hands engulfed in crimson flames.

 **“b-boss…”** Sans stuttered fearfully as he tried to back up a step only to be stopped short by Papyrus grabbing his collar and yanking him up into the air. Sans looked terrified so Flicka stepped in; hands raised in a pacifying manner with a soft soothing smile on her lips she sketched a small curtsy towards Papyrus to draw his attention.

“Please do not take your righteous anger out on your pet; I am so sorry to have overstepped my bounds, great Papyrus, I was negligent in my observations and did not notice Sans’ collar until after the deed was done, it was not…penetrative sex…if that helps.” She apologized with all the meek sincerity she could muster, dropping her head submissively as if in awe of his power; albeit his killing rage was rolling off of him in almost tangible waves, so being cautious was not a bad idea.

He stared at her in bewilderment for several long moments while Sans hung limply in his grip, eyes screwed shut as if expecting to be hit. She held her pose of submission until she heard Papyrus begin to speak.

“…WELL, YOU CERTAINLY RECOGNIZE GREATNESS WHEN YOU SEE IT, PERHAPS I CAN OVERLOOK THIS HORRIBLE BREACH OF PROPRIETY, JUST THIS ONCE.” Papyrus intoned magnanimously while lowering his brother to the ground with something almost like gentleness, although his possessive grip on Sans’ collar did not waver and he stood staring at her and Frisk with a sneer of superiority.

Flicka pulled Frisk into her arms with a show of equal possessiveness and kissed his forehead gently while she met Papyrus’ gaze and refused to drop her eyes, even when the weight of his attention had her wanting to drop to her knees. She raised a hand to stroke along Frisk's forehead and then lowered her hand to lightly brush her fingertips over Flowey's petals. Frisk looked from her to the skeleton brothers and back up to her, and she could feel his concern in the way his arms tightened around her waist. She could vaguely hear Sans trying to get his brother’s attention, but she still kept her eyes locked on the taller skeleton’s.

He had at first looked startled by her determined stare, and then annoyed and now angry, his eyes narrowed and pupils glowing a darker red than Sans. She lifted her chin and refused to drop her eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art I've drawn for this chapter](http://felliskelli.tumblr.com/post/151863555966/picture-ive-drawn-for-chapter-7-of-falling-for)


	8. Dog days of the Underground

**“hey, can you two stop making eyes at each-other for, like, a minute?”** Sans finally exclaimed loudly enough to draw his brother’s and Flicka’s attention away from their staring contest and to him. Flicka flushed with embarrassment and slowly released her possessive embrace of Frisk and allowed him to leave if he wished, but he did not move away, just lay his head against her stomach. She glanced down at him and saw that he was trying not to laugh. She ruffled his hair with a grin.

After satisfying herself over Frisk’s mood she looked to Sans and gave him an apologetic smile; he glowered at her and then at Papyrus before finally tugging himself free of the taller skeleton’s grip with a snort.

 **"you two need to _chill_ down."** He complained with a small smirk, Frisk giggled and Flicka returned the smirk; Papyrus looked annoyed and Flowey groaned.

"It is awfully cold, but I don't mind _heating_ things up..." She answered with a teasing twitch of her hips.

 **"well, you are hot enough to _steam_ up the snow, but that's just _nature_ -al..."** Sans responded with some truly dorky finger guns and a broad wink.

"OH MY STARS WILL YOU TWO STOP IT! THIS IS HORRIBLE AND THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL NOT STAND FOR SUCH AWFUL PUNS!" Papyrus finally interrupted their tangent, waving his arms in the air as if to dispel their jokes from existence.

But the tension had been successfully disrupted and Sans and Flicka shared a smug grin. They turned away from each other before Papyrus could turn and see; Flicka looked down at her son and spun him about with a laugh and then pulling him up into her arms to give him a big hug.

"I was lost without you." She told him while nuzzling him.

"I won't leave again." Frisk promised while hugging her tight.

That was when Papyrus stalked towards her, his eyes snapping with red magic. She fell back a step and pulled Frisk protectively against her, her shoulders tense. Frisk shifted to watch Papyrus approach but did not seem concerned. Flowey looked nervous though, so Flicka was wary.

He stopped an arm's length away from her, his hands on his hips and it was obvious he was restraining himself, he was practically trembling with rage. Sans had followed his brother nervously and stopped just behind and to the left of the taller skeleton.

**"boss?"**

"THAT IS MY BROTHER'S JACKET." Papyrus finally bit out with a growl. Flicka glanced down, realizing she was still wearing Sans' coat. She had almost forgotten.

 **"that...i let her...i gave her my coat to borrow boss..."** Sans started, trying to placate his brother, nervous sweat beading his brow and his eye lights flickering. Papyrus did not even seem to acknowledge his brother, but his eyes narrowed even further and his right eye (the one bisected by several vertical scars) began to glow with a darker scarlet then Sans' crimson magic.

Flicka gently put Frisk down without dropping her gaze; maintaining eye contact seemed the most important thing right now. She then slowly took off the jacket, because making sudden movements seemed like a bad thing to do right now. She held the dark garment out and did not flinch when Papyrus practically ripped it from her fingers.

She put her hands up in a gesture of peace, ignoring Papyrus' snarl of disgust. "Thank you for allowing me to borrow your jacket Sans. I'm much warmer now." She told Sans softly, still staring into Papyrus' eyes. She remembered the dogs she had run across on the surface, eye contact was a sign of aggression or domination, the one who dropped his eyes first lost. She was starting to feel nervous and tense, maintaining such prolonged eye contact was not something she had ever been comfortable with, and Papyrus was starting to scare her a little.

He had his teeth bared in a threatening manner as he all but threw the jacket at the smaller skeleton. She saw out of the corner of her eye as Sans juggled with the sudden appearance of clothing in his arms but he eventually managed to pull it back on and then stood huddled in the hoodie, his hands grasping his collar and he looked miserable.

Frisk tugged at her hand and without meaning to she dropped her eyes to stare at the snow for a moment before turning to her son; she heard a satisfied chuckle from Papyrus and she allowed her shoulders to slump in defeat, even as she felt relief that at least it was over. She would let Papyrus have this victory, and if asked she would use Frisk as an excuse.

Frisk was not even looking up at her, but was watching Papyrus, Flicka wondered if he had distracted her on purpose. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. One the one hand it dispelled a little of the tension now that Papyrus had achieved domination over her, but on the other, it caused her to lose.

Flowey however was looking up at her and he gave her a small comforting smile and the way he was twisting one of his leaves looked like he was trying to give her a thumbs up. She blinked slowly and allowed herself to relax. She rubbed her hands over her arms for a moment and then looked over at Papyrus, but this time she did not raise her eyes higher than his collar bones.

"I believe you were in the middle of showing my son all your fascinating, surely human destroying traps? Sans was telling me all about how genius you are." She offered in a soft tone, trying to not sound like she was ordering him to do anything. Papyrus seemed all too eager to take this opening and he struck a dramatic pose.

"THAT IS TRUE, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM TRULY A GENIUS; AND MY TRAPS ARE MAGNIFICENT! COME LITTLE HUMAN, WE SHALL CONTINUE OUR TOUR!"

Frisk glanced quickly at her and at her nod he smiled and ran over to Papyrus with a big grin, looking excited to continue Papyrus' tour. The tall skeleton looked briefly confused by the boy's glee, but he quickly recovered his calm and pulled Frisk's mask back out of wherever he had stashed it. Frisk pulled the mask on and followed Papyrus like a duckling when he had whirled to continue on their way.

She watched them walk away with a small smile while Sans trudged slowly to her side, dragging his feet through the snow and still looking nervous; he was almost trembling as he reached her side. Without looking she reached out to pull him to her side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and letting him tremble against her. He slowly relaxed although she could hear a hitching in his breath.

"Are you ok?" She asked softly after standing in silence with him for long enough for their brothers to be out of hearing range.

 **"i...i'm sorry. i didn't mean to...make my brother hate you..."** he mumbled miserably. She shot him a startled glance and then chuckled.

"Oh, baby-bones...you didn't do anything at all, Papyrus is just jealous." She teased with a wide grin. Sans snapped his head up to look at her, moving so suddenly she worried that he would break his neck.

 **"well, yes, he does not like people touching his things...but..."** He started with a look that said she should have know that already. She shook her head and interrupted.

"No, I mean, he's jealous of how affectionate we were being." He looked at her with disbelief which slowly slid into anger and resentment.

 **"that isn't funny."** he growled. **"he hates me."** His words were certain, he had not a trace of doubt in his voice as he said that, and she was taken aback. Sans glared up at her for a moment more and then dropped his eyes, his hands gripping his collar again, so tightly that he was puncturing his hands with the spikes.

She was at a loss for how to respond, nothing she had seen from Papyrus had made her come to the conclusion that he hated his older brother; in fact, he had seemed like a jealous and overly possessive lover more than anything else. And Sans had been gushing so lovingly about his brother earlier, almost sickeningly so. It was obvious that he adored his brother, and was head over heels in love with him. She had assumed that it was reciprocated, but Sans seemed to think that his brother did not return his feelings. And considering how Sans was behaving she was sure he would not believe her if she told him she thought otherwise. So she just embraced him tighter.

"Ah, did he tell you that?" She asked haltingly.

**"he did not have to. i can just tell. he barely looks at me, he wants nothing to do with me. not since he became second-in-command, he hates weakness, he hates useless things.and i am weak and useless and just...holding him down. he's always telling me what a waste of space i am, as if i did not already know."**

Flicka felt as though his words were cutting straight through her, and she reached up a hand to rub at her chest absently as she tried to respond, but her words were sticking in her throat. She opened her mouth to try and comfort him, but after a moment closed her mouth with a sharp click of teeth without saying anything. So she just reached a hand up to stroke his skull slowly, trying to soothe him with her affection if not her words. She leaned down to nuzzle his skull, trying to will her love into him. She may have just met him a few hours ago, but she loved him almost as much as she loved Frisk, and the depth of her affection for him surprised her, and she was a little afraid of the strong feelings, but she felt that if anyone needed such love, Sans did. And Frisk seemed well on his way of befriending both of the skeletons, so perhaps together she and he could start healing Sans’ sense of self-worth.

She was also not convinced that Papyrus actually hated Sans...she might be wrong, but she had not seen any hate in the taller skeleton’s eyes that was not directed towards her. She slowly loosened her embrace and stepped away from Sans to get a good look at his face. He looked a little tired, and a little sad, but he was grinning up at her (but again, it did not reach his eyes).

“You don’t have to force yourself to smile around me…” She told him softly, but that seemed to be the wrong thing to say as he crumpled in on himself, his eye lights flickering out and his smile growing to look more like a rictus grin. He was trembling.

 **“i’m so-sorry, sm-smiling is...all i c-can do...pretending to be...ha-happy...or...angry, aggressive...it…keeps...pe-people...from knowing how weak and wor-worthless and pathetic i really am…”** He stuttered, his hands once again clinging to his collar. **“it...is...dangerous to be…seen as prey...and...i can’t stand making my brother’s life any more difficult than it is…”** He continued with a something like a plea.

“Oh baby-bones…” She did not know how to comfort him. Telling him he was not those things would not help, he would not believe her. “Can you show me around a bit more before Papyrus and Frisk come back?” She continued with an abrupt change of the subject. Sans looked at her, and she can see that he knows exactly what she was trying to do, but he seemed willing to go along with it and he slowly relaxed, his hands being shoved into his pockets as he smirked at her, although he did seem calmer now.

 **"well, um...we have snow, and this path here..."** Sans started, waving his hand to show her the scenery. Flicka giggled and allowed Sans to lead her around back towards where the bridge was, following where Papyrus and Frisk had gone before turning right and going towards the cliff edge.

She started to shiver again, it really was cold down here and it had started to snow. She tried not to draw Sans' attention but he was quite observant because without even pausing in his explanation of the cliff edge and the forest she could she stretching out in the distance he pulled off his coat again and handed it to her. She hesitated for a second and then took the proffered clothing gratefully. He was so sweet. She pulled it on quickly and held the fluffy collar to her nose, inhaling the scent of him without even really thinking about it.

He started to wave his arm about as he explained something about the weather -how it functioned underground or something- when she noticed that the path continued along this upper level of the cliff and she saw two sentry stations set side-by-side. They were in much better repair than Sans' was, but still a little worn and, well, clawed up. She was curious and started to walk in that direction while listening to Sans with half an ear.

**"-although the underground stretches out for hundreds of miles out there, and there is room for a much bigger population, we all stay in this one spot, even though we can't help but fight over territory-"**

She was about to comment about how sad and lonely that seemed when she suddenly remembered him saying something about avoiding the other sentries and she paused to go back to him before he noticed how close she was to the stations when she noticed paw prints in the snow. She knelt down to get a closer look. They were dog prints she thought as she peered through the gloom and steadily increasing snowfall. Big ones too, but from the way they were spaced it was almost as if the dog was bipedal...

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" A low voice growled and she looked up to see a tall humanoid dog monster, towering over her, about ten feet away, coming from one of the stations; she had not even heard him approach. He was a black and white dog with short pointed ears and a snarl on his snout, and he looked like he had gotten dressed in the dark; he was wearing an eye blinding mixture of red, pink, orange, green, and pale black. A dog biscuit was held between his teeth like a cigar and considering the wisp of smoke curling up from the end it sorta was one.

In the time she had to process his appearance she had managed to bolt clumsily to her feet and fall back a step. He actually was not as tall as she had first thought, maybe an inch or so taller than she was. But that did not make her feel any better, dogs had always made her nervous, especially big dogs. She tried to not let her fear show, and put her hands in the pockets of the hoody and tried to imitate Sans' smug sneer as the dog monster took a stiff-legged step towards her. She felt a shiver shudder down her spine and she tried to hide the reaction by bunching the hoody about her; somewhat like a dog ruffling his hackles (and a sudden insight reached her about that reaction), and she lifted her chin boldly.

She felt the sudden urge to taunt him, but that went against her usual attempt to befriend people so she just stood staring at him for several awkward moments as he continued to approach her; and Sans had finally noticed what she was doing; his commentary stopped mid-flow.

"Hey, stop freezing like that, let me get a look at you..." The dog finally growled out in annoyance as he stopped several paces from her. She started back a step and he smirked, seemingly pleased by what he must have thought was compliance. "Good..." He frowned after she took a second step. "You...I've never seen you around before, what kind of monster are you?" He asked, and at the same time Sans called out from behind her.

 **"stay still, he can't see you if you don't move!"** Sans instructed with a growl of anger that Flicka could not tell if it was directed at her or not.

But that certainly explained his clothing.

 

She froze in place and the dog growled angrily. He reached a paw up to rub neck and he sighed with disgust. "Is that you Sans, what the fuck are you doing over here?" The dog sounded annoyed before something like delight passed his features and he leered in the general direction of the skeleton. “Oooh, you want some more, pup?” He growled, reaching with one paw to lewdly grab his crotch in a way that left no question about what he was implying. Flicka glanced from the dog to Sans and saw the shame on his face before it was replaced with anger. 

**"i could ask the same of you, doggo, this is dogamy and dogressa's station!"** Sans challenged with a snarl, Flicka noticed he completely ignored the dog’s second statement. She turned her attention back to the dog and saw the annoyance on his face and he shifted his weight, removing his paw from his crotch. Before Doggo could respond Sans continued with a low possessive growl, **"and what the fuck are you doing sneaking up on her like that?"**

Flicka glanced back over her shoulder at him. His left eye was glowing a bright scarlet, the magic flickering violently.

"What is it to you, Sans? And why are you so pissed off? Didn’t we show you a good time?" Doggo asked with a sneer before taking a deep inhale through his nose, his eyes narrowing. "Oh. Oh! How did I not notice... his stench is all over you...you're dripping in it..." He took a big crunch of the dog biscuit and then swallowed it before licking his chops and leering at her, which was impressive since he could not see her. But if dogs relied more on their noses...she gulped back revulsion at the way he was looking at her, like she was his next meal.

"You may look really fucking weird, and like, gross and bald and shit, but you smell delicious. If you're that desperate for a fucking that you'd go to that; to Sans of all monsters..." He broke off with an almost hysterical bark of laughter. She shivered at the deep growl in his voice as he continued. "Oh, you poor girl, you must be in desperate need of a real monster to sate your needs, bitch..." He continued with a lustful smirk as he held out his arms as if in invitation.

She had not expected him to hit her so hard, despite her intentional goading, and had not thought he could move so quickly, so his strike hit her squarely across her unguarded face. Her legs collapsed underneath her and she fell to her knees in the snow, seeing stars. All she could hear was ringing in her ears. She could feel a warm liquid trickling down from her nose and when she reflexively licked at the trickle she winced as her tongue ran over her lip, and all she tasted was blood.

She blinked frantically to clear her vision and began to push herself to her feet when she saw a red and black blur appear before her.

Sans? How had he moved so fast?

He was standing between her and the dog, his arms spread wide, his hands glowing red, she could see a red glow outlining the side of his skull.

 **" _mine_ , don't touch 'er!"** He snarled, almost incoherent in possessive rage, red and white bones appearing and flying in a wave towards Doggo as Sans gestured sharply with his hand. Doggo snarled and dodged to the side, avoiding the attack easily. Flicka found herself flushing with pleasure despite the seriousness of the situation, she liked this possessiveness of Sans, it was very flattering that he wanted...to own her? Wait a second...

"Hey...Sans, what is this 'mine' business?" She asked with a small huff of annoyance as she carefully got up to her feet. She reached a hand up to touch her stuck cheek hesitantly and hissed in pain at the contact.

 **"why do ya have a problem with it flicka? you're mine!"** Sans growled without looking at her. She opened her mouth to respond, flustered, and then got distracted and watched as he sent another bisected wave at Doggo, driving him to the side and into a second wave. The dog howled when several of the bones cut across his arm, side and hip, drawing something like dusty blood, but not doing any serious harm. She felt a morbid glee as she watched Sans driving the dog from side to side, obviously trying to punish him for scaring her and coming on to her.

Abruptly she remembered Sans' question and she took a deep breath as she tried to think of an answer. She didn't really mind him owning her if he wanted, but he should have asked her first right? And she needed to discuss staying down here with Frisk first. And she had to wonder what kind of ownership this was, the kind he had with his brother; collar, Master and Slave, Dom and Sub? Her mind whirled and she felt a headache starting. And truthfully, if anyone was to own anyone she wanted to own him. He was such a cute little baby-bones.

"Well...I don't have a problem with it per se, Sans, but it's something we should talk about, yeah? I mean, if you mean it the way I think you do." She managed finally with a slightly weaker voice than she intended, but she was being sincere and hoped Sans would be able to hear it. She felt her face flush and she was feeling a little warm.

Meanwhile Doggo had rushed forward to attack Sans, only to be sent reeling back by more waves of bones, each subsequent wave being more and more complex than the previous. But Sans looked like he was getting tired, and was only barely holding ground and although Doggo had sustained more injuries he was still full of energy.

 **"definitely something we should talk about, but i don't want that damn dog touching what's gonna be mine!"** Sans responded with a snarl as he started to put more effort into his attacks, red sweat running down his skull, and she was beginning to worry that he would hurt himself. Before she could run forward to try and help him, she felt a heavy hand fall onto her shoulder.

She jumped and looked up to see Papyrus towering over her, glowering with something like hate in his eyes at her, and his fingers dug into her shoulder, drawing blood; using all her control she managed not to wince, although the pressure was also opening the punctures on the back of her shoulders that Sans had made. These two needed to watch their claws. She had not even heard him walking up behind her, she wondered how long he had been there. She stared fearlessly up at him, trying to not display any emotion except a small calm smile.

"Hello Papyrus." She murmured softly. His teeth parted in a silent snarl and her all but pushed her over as he called out to Sans. Frisk had been just behind Papyrus and he ran to her side as she stumbled and fell to her knees in the snow. Seriously, she was falling all over the place today, it was getting tiring.

"JUST WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO CLAIM OWNERSHIP OVER ANYONE, WHELP?" Papyrus yelled with a flamboyant wave of his hand, drawing the startled attention of Sans and Doggo who both spun to face him, freezing in place.

 **"b-boss?"** Sans stuttered, his eye lights guttering out and the red flames around his hands dying to small flickers. He looked utterly terrified, his eyes flickering between him and her, seemingly completely forgetting about Doggo. Doggo on his end seemed just as terrified for a moment before taking a brave stance, but did not seem like he would take advantage of Sans' distraction.

"ANSWER MY QUESTION, YOU WORTHLESS MUTT! WHILE YOU WEAR MY COLLAR YOU ARE UNDER MY COMMAND AND UNLESS I SAY OTHERWISE YOU ARE AT THE BOTTOM OF THE FOOD CHAIN!" Papyrus continued, obviously very, truly angry and not just blustering. He summoned a large bone constuct to his hand, a blunt club at one end and sharpened to a point at the other. She was not certain who he intended to use it on. It seemed equally likely that he would kill her or Doggo. Or even just smack Sans around for daring to try and claim her. He was so angry that he could possibly do anything.

For the time being she was staying on her knees. Frisk stood at her shoulder, his hands gripping her hood, and she heard Flowey muttering about the three of them just getting away. She did not move and Frisk did not leave her, so Flowey whinned that they were all going to die. She absently raised a hand to soothe over his petals softly, but did not take her eyes off of Papyrus as she thought about his words. His argument had seemed a little weak; what did the food chain have to do with anything? Did monster eat each other?

(Toriel's pie had tasted dusty)

She felt a little ill at the thought and her stomach roiled, she clenched her jaw.

 **"well, i don't exactly want to eat her boss..."** Sans responded with something like annoyance, before looking thoughtful and glancing at her with a lewd smirk that had her flushing, her nausea fading as she felt lust coil in her groin instead. Damn she was feeling needy. **"well, i do but..."**

"DON'T BE DISGUSTING! AND WHY ARE YOU WASTING SO MUCH OF YOUR PITIFUL POOL OF MAGIC ON THIS..."

 **"don't you finish that sentence boss."** Sans snarled lowly, his hands glowing red again as he turned to face his brother. Flicka was a little taken aback at how defensive he was, even towards his beloved brother. Was he worried that Papyrus would call her a human and give it away in front of Doggo? Or did he think Papyrus was about to call her something insulting and did not want her demeaned?

"ARE YOU-" Papyrus sputtered momentarily, his eye sockets bulging with rage, "DO YOU DARE THREATEN ME? THE GREAT PAPYRUS?!" She had not thought it possible, if she was not seeing it with her own eyes she would not have believed it, but Papyrus somehow looked even angrier now than he had before. He clenched his fist tighter, enough to snap the construct abruptly into dust, before waving his hand and summoning an even larger one, and she could feel that murderous rage roiling off him in almost tangible waves that had her shrinking back until she was sitting on the ground and pulling Frisk protectively on her lap, her eyes still never leaving Papyrus.

 **"n-no...boss. i...wouldn't dare....but..."** Sans finally seemed to realize that he had put his foot in his mouth and his eye lights flickered out once again, his magic going out completely and her put his hands up pleadingly. Papyrus moved foward a single step and Sans huddled where he was, trembling.

Movement from behind Sans caught Flicka's attention and her head snapped around to see Doggo finally on the move, leaping towards San's undefended back from what must be Papyrus' blind spot.

"SANS!" She yelled in terror as she tried to struggle back to her feet and getting tangled with her son. They fell forward together into the snow as she reached out towards Sans, despairing over what to her seemed his certain death.

But thankfully her cry had drawn Papyrus' attention to the dog monster and with a impatient snarl and a violent gesture from his hand he sent a sudden rain of bone shards erupting from the ground directly in front of the leaping Doggo.

Doggo never stood a chance and he immediately fell to dust.


	9. Welcome Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the last chapter of part 2! Part three will be starting soon!

Doggo was no more, killed by an eruption of bone shards in the blink of an eye. Dust fell to the snow in shower of grey powder mixing with the still gently falling snow. The dust was somehow beautiful as it blended with the pure white of the newly fallen snow.

Flicka was frozen in shock, half sprawled in the snow, holding herself up with her knees and her elbows, Frisk curled underneath her, holding himself just off of Flowey. All their eyes were fixed on Doggo. Or what remained of him. Flowey looked horrified, his petals shook. Frisk was breathing shallowly, and she could feel him tremble. She herself was finding it a little hard to breathe, her breath feel trapped in her chest and her vision was beginning to go fuzzy around the edges.

Doggo was dead. He was no longer there, no longer alive. Now he was just a pile of dust.

Like Toriel.

Like all those other poor lonely piles she had seen scattered throughout the Ruins.

Just, gone. So quickly, so easily.

Slowly she levered herself upright with only a slight wince as her punctured shoulders complained as she shoved her weight with her arms and then leaned back until she was sitting again. She pulled Frisk back into her lap once she felt steady. Her arms shook as she clutched Frisk to her chest but he was not even paying any attention to her; he was staring at the pile of dust, his eyes opened ever so slightly in shock before he relaxed slowly against her, turning slowly to look at Papyrus.

She could not stop staring at the dust, remembering Toriel,

(Just one hit, she'd barely touched the goat woman, just her killing intent had been enough)

remembering how easy it had been to kill, how easy it was to die.

(The spikes punched through her like a knife through butter but it had hurt, hurt so bad, the spike through her throat, the blood in her mouth...)

But she came back, could everyone come back? Just humans?

She had died.

She had killed Toriel.

Papyrus had just killed Doggo.

Sans had just almost died.

That last thought finally drew her spiraling mind back to the present and she shot a frantic look to Sans who was standing watching his brother, his expression looking much the same as it had been when she last looked at him; seeing his brother kill something did not seem to phase him in the slightest, was it that commonplace an occurrence?

That was somehow the most depressing thing of all.

As she watched him though he seemed to have just been in shock because as he realized what had happened his eye sockets had widened and he turned to look at what had been Doggo before turning around to Papyrus looking almost stricken. He stared silently at Papyrus who had not even glanced at the pile of dust and was still glowering at his brother.

 **"boss! you killed him?! t-that...was stupid! doggo was...he was one of undyne's..."** Sans stuttered as he wringed his hands nervously. His eyelights had reignited by this point though and he was no longer trembling. He was obviously very agitated and he his gnashed his shark-like teeth together before letting out a frustrated growl. **"why'd you do that boss, undyne will be pissed! i was handling him!"**

So maybe he was not that upset about seeing his brother kill. In fact he seemed more upset about who his brother had killed rather than the death itself.

"YOU CERTAINLY WERE HANDLING HIM! HANDLING HIM LIKE AN IDIOT! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO DUST HIM WITH ONE MOVE, INSTEAD OF JUST PLAYING WITH HIM! YOU REALLY ARE COMPLETELY WORTHLESS! HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN NO PROBLEM FOR YOU!" Papyrus practically shrieked, his hands waving about flamboyantly as he berated Sans furiously. But his words just made Sans angrier and he hissed as his hands fell to his side in fists.

**"doggo is...was...part of undyne's elite! i was just going to hurt him, teach him a lesson! teach him not to mess with...and undyne, she's gonna-"**

"SHUT UP! HE WAS BEING SENSELESS AND WAS IN MY WAY. ALSO THE STUPID MUTT WAS INTERRUPTING OUR DISCUSSION, HE DESERVED WHAT HE GOT."

**"i don't think undyne will accept that excuse boss...."**

"WHAT EXCUSE? IT IS WHAT IT IS!"

**"sure boss..."**

"WHAT DOES THAT TONE MEAN, IS THAT SARCASM I HEAR?!"

Flicka listened to their back and forth with bemusement, feeling a little lost as the argument devolved into what really amounted to sibling bickering. A little more violent and with more profanity than she had prior experience with, but a brotherly argument nonetheless. She eventually just shook her head and reached a hand up to rub her right temple in annoyance. Papyrus was so obvious.

"Oh Papyrus." She sighed loudly, drawing the attention of both skeleton brothers. They whirled to face her, Papyrus incredulous and angry; Sans shocked, his hands reaching up to clutch his collar. 

"Just be honest, you were pissed because Doggo was about to attack your brother, your pet, so you just took care of him so Sans would not have to since he does not like killing and you did not want him any more upset than he already was!" She exclaimed as she slowly shifted Frisk off of her lap and stood to her feet. Something Doggo had said also made her realize what had really pissed Papyrus off. 

Doggo and Sans had had sex recently.

She didn’t know if she should push that button, but Doggo obviously had, and now he was dead. A shiver ran up her spine as she wondered if Papyrus would kill her after all for touching his brother…

Frisk had stood up to stand beside her while she was worrying, gripping her hand and leaning his head against her hip. He stared at Papyrus and then to Frisk.

After a moment he left her side to go to Sans.

Sans meanwhile was looking absolutely dumbfounded by her statement, his jaw dropping open and he just stared with disbelief that she would even think such a thing. Frisk took Sans' hands in his and Sans jumped slightly and turned to look at the boy as if he had not even noticed him approaching. Papyrus' face got red and he sputtered incoherently for several moments.  

"WHAT NONSENSE! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WOULD NEVER-"

"So you don't kill the idiots that dare mess with your pet?" She interrupted with a sweet smile as she began to brush snow off of herself. She was also really starting to feel the cold, the snow had soaked through her pants pretty thoroughly by this point. Talking so offhandedly about murder left a bad taste in her mouth, but she was trying to soothe Papyrus a little. It seemed to be working because now he just seemed indignant.

"OF COURSE I DO!"

"Sans, I'm hungry." Frisk suddenly spoke up, interrupting Papyrus' building tirade. Everyone turned to look at the boy and Flicka gave him a proud grin. Sans blinked several times and then smiled brightly, his eyelights glowing  red in a calmer manner, and he slouched as he looked down at Frisk.

 **"ah sure, sweetie, we've had you out here all day, lets all go back to the house and get you some food."** Sans grinned down at the boy and put his arm over the boy's shoulders. He then turned to look over at Flicka before glancing at Papyrus, his smile stiffening on his face and he looked a little nervous.

Papyrus looked annoyed and was sneering at his brother and Frisk, but he was no longer holding a bone construct and had folded his arms over his sternum with a huff of annoyance.

Flicka felt relieved that all the drama was over for the moment before remembering Doggo again. She looked over to Papyrus and then Sans before walking over to the pile  of dust. She stared silently at the sad remains for a moment.

"Um, before we leave, shouldn't we...do something? For...his remains?" She asked softly, feeling remorseful. If not for her, he would not have got into a...domination match with Sans, he would not be dead. It was her fault.

"WHAT?"

**"like what?"**

"W-what? I mean, what do you usually do for your dead? Any sort of ceremony or..." She trailed off as she saw the disgust in Papyrus' eyes and the confusion in Sans'.

**"we don't do anything for the dead, just...leave the dust there."**

She rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms  in unease and fought the sudden urge to cry, which just drew Papyrus' attention to her, and he finally seemed to realize she was wearing Sans' coat again. He puffed up in anger and she could practically see his rage building. Seeing an skeleton puff up with anger was somewhat amusing, but she quickly shucked Sans' jacket and walked over to him to drape it over his shoulders while watching Papyrus.

"I'm sorry Papyrus, I got cold, Sans was...being kind." She murmured softly, dropping her eyes to the ground.

"COLD? HUMANS ARE SO WEAK..." Papyrus scoffed with a sneer, but he seemed content to leave it at that as Sans pulled the jacket on all the way before slinging his arm over Frisk's shoulder again.

By this point all her aches and pains, the punctures on the front and back of her shoulders, the bruises on her knees for falling to the ground, all seemed to catch up with her at once as her adrenaline tapered off. And she was cold. And tired. And hungry. And so very very done with seeing dead monster dust. She wanted to cuddle Sans and Frisk, just take comfort in their presence, but she was not in the mood to dance around Papyrus' jealousy. So instead she shifted away from the shorter skeleton slightly and stroked her hand through her little brother's hair. He turned to look at her, a little concerned. She gave him a comforting smile.

"Uh, I'm hungry too, Sansy." She muttered with a tired grin. 

**"well let's get us all to our home, yeah, do you...uh...want....to shortcut with us boss...or..."**

"I'LL WALK." Papyrus growled with distaste and he whirled around and strode off stiff backed in the direction she assumed would take him to Snowdin and his house. She looked at Sans, raising an eyebrow.

"A shortcut?" She prompted with a wry grin, curious.

 **"yeah, it's super cool, take my hand..."** he grinned broadly holding a hand out to her, tightening his arm securely around Frisk. She tilted her head thoughtfully and took his hand without hesitation. His grin widened and his eye flashed red, she felt as though there was a tug pulling something from within her chest, the world spun, went black, and then they were standing in a living room and she would have stumbled except Sans pulled her to him to steady her.

 **“and here is my house!”** Sans proclaimed with a lazy wave of his arm as he let Frisk go to scamper to the couch that was behind them, his other arm he kept around her. She appreciated the support because she felt dizzy and her legs wobbled beneath her. It also felt as though he was holding himself up using her as a crutch because he was trembling and she could see red sweat beading his brow.

Her stomach was also rebelling the sudden translocation and she had some serious questions about the insane physics of the Underground. Her stomach gave a heave and she took a slow breathe through her nose and fought down her nausea with a small groan.

**“h-hey, you ok, flicka, you look a little... _bone_ pale.”** Sans asked, concern evident in his voice even while he smiled broadly at her. He tightened his hold on her, lifting her head up gently with cool phalanges under her chin so that she met his eyes.

“Yeah, I'm ok, just, that shortcut was a little unsettling.” She replied with a soft smile, her stomach thankfully calming down.

**“huh, yeah, that can happen...cutting through space can do that to the uninitiated…** ” 

“Ugh...next time I think I'll walk with Papyrus…”

**“gotta let me make you a monster disguise first.”**

She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek which had him flushing red and then slipped from his hold to get a good look at the room.

It was a little worse for wear, the paint on the walls peeling a bit, the carpet worn in places. The couch was torn at the corners and she could see some broken seams where some stuffing was escaping. But all in all it was a very nice place, saved from coziness by the somewhat aggressive colors of red and black used in everything. 

She was sensing a theme here.

Well, at least she and Frisk would fit right in.

She turned in a slow circle, saw the couch and TV, table and chairs (only 2), the kitchen, and a stairs leading up, she saw three doors on the second floor. It was a nice house. She and Frisk had never had so much space.

“What's up there?” She asked curiously, she was pretty certain she already knew the answer but she did not want to assume anything. 

**“my brother's room, the bathroom, and my room.”** Sans answered lazily while pointing out the rooms.

“All this just for you and your brother?”

**“after boss got promoted and stationed here from the hotlands we were given this place.”** Sans explained with a proud grin. She chuckled at his brotherly pride. He was so cute. Flicka skipped over to his side and poked his cheek with a grin.

“So you said something about food?” She prompted. She saw Frisk perk up at that comment from the corner of her eye. She remembered that he had said he was hungry too. Well, she could not have that, she sent him a small smile and he beamed at her.

**“yeah, we have the ingredients for spaghetti mostly, um...my cooking is...not the greatest…”** Sans started with a nervous grin. She patted his cheek

“I can cook, let me see what you have.” She informed the shorter skeleton with a grin as she began to roll up her sleeves to her elbows as she walked into the kitchen area. She saw Sans glance at the crisscrossing scars on her forearms but he thankfully did not mention them.

The kitchen area was fairly nice and she hummed happily as she searched through the fridge. 

“So Papyrus usually does the cooking then?” she asked curiously as she gathered the necessary ingredients.

**“uh, yeah. he does...most of the stuff around the house actually…”**

“Well, if Frisk and I stay here we can certainly pull our weight over the housework, and that will certainly help his mood I would think.” She commented off-handidly as she began to prepare the sauce, most of her attention on the food prep than on her words. Sans who was standing beside her positively glowed with happiness at her words.

**“will you stay, flicka?”** He asked softly. She looked down at him, in the middle of chopping a tomato. She blinked slowly and then looked at Frisk on the couch. 

“Frisk baby!” She called. Frisked looked up from a quiet discussion he had been having with Flowey and he trotted over to her obediently, she noticed he had taken off his mask and outer robe. “Did you...have any desire to return to the surface?” She asked softly, trying not to force his decision. He looked thoughtfully up at her for a long moment before finally shaking his head firmly.

“No. All that mattered was you.” He murmured as he hugged her. She grinned brightly as she carefully put the knife down and returned the embrace, stroking his hair lovingly. She winced slightly as her shoulders complained, once again reminding her that she should get them looked at, but ignored her injuries for the time being.

“Same for me, baby, you were all I cared about…”

**“well, we have plenty of room here; you and frisk…and flowey...are welcome to stay here for as long as you want, right boss?”** Sans spoke up loudly and Flicka looked at him with a raised eyebrow before he turned to direct his last few words to someone behind her, she whirled to see Papyrus standing in the middle of the living room, his arms folded over his chest, his eyes narrowed in thought as he stared at them in the kitchen. Papyrus seemed to be considering the situation thoroughly, and he scanned his eyes slowly over Sans, Frisk, and then her. 

“...IF THEIR PRESENCE ACTUALLY CONTINUES TO HAVE A POSITIVE EFFECT ON YOUR ACTIVITY LEVEL I MUST SAY IT IS A VAST IMPROVEMENT, AND AS LONG AS WORD DOES NOT GET OUT THAT YOU MANAGED TO LET HUMANS IN, I DON’T SEE THE HARM...BUT IF THEY CAUSE TROUBLE I WILL TAKE THEM TO KING ASGORE MYSELF.”

**“heh, sounds like a good deal boss.”** Sans responded happily enough. Flicka glanced at Sans’ pleased face and then looked at Papyrus before looking down to Frisk.

“Well hun? What do you think?” Flicka asked him with a small grin. The boy looked thoughtful for a long moment as he leaned against her hip and staring thoughtfully up at her. He made a noncommittal noise as he glanced down to see Flowey’s response. The flower gave something like a shrug.

“Well, it will be safer here than most anywhere else I would say, Sans is a good monster, and Papyrus is strong, if you two are careful, we should be well protected here, and it will be a good start for you two to get used to how it works down here…” The flower mused thoughtfully before nodding assuredly. “Yes, it will be nice here…”

“You want to stay here mom?” Frisk asked as he looked back up at her. She smiled softly and glances in what she hoped was a subtle manner to Sans he looked hopefully at her, she felt her cheeks flush.

“Yes I do.” She murmured.

“Then I do too!” Frisk declared.

**“then let me be the first to say, welcome home!”**   
  


 


End file.
